The Right Road Lost
by Anti-Materiel Girl
Summary: An Evil FLW finds a conscience after buying Charon's contract, and struggles to atone for her previous bad behavior. Part 2 of the Dark Hearts, Broken Souls series. Smuttiness, strong language, nihilism, and violence abound. Warning for strong masochistic tones and a brief mention of self-harm. Rated M, of course. Now complete!
1. Sobriety Sucks

**Author's Note:**

The title of this story comes from the opening stanza of the Pinsky translation of Dante's Inferno.

This story is a continuation of a previous story, The Cost of Redemption - two first-person monologues, which I intended to be one-shots. Read them before you read this, because there's brief references to it.

Being a continuation of The Cost of Redemption, this story is a series of first-person monologues, LW and Charon.

Maleficent begged me to make her a more well-rounded character, and I had no choice but to capitulate.

Please follow the story if you like it; I'll be uploading chapters on a regular basis - if it's not marked complete, then I'm not done yet!

Enjoy.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I take another swallow of purified water, wishing it was liquor. The whisky makes the Darkness go away. Or, makes it retreat, rather – it never really leaves. Now I have to learn how to control it on my own. _Well, not entirely. He's still here._

I glance over; see his outline in the dark. We travel at night a lot – both for the stealth, and because I've always felt at home in the dark. I grew up in a hole in the ground – no wonder.

Good thing is, I'm not drunk all the time now. I still smoke a lot, but hey – you only live once, right? Well, unless you're Hindu, I guess. Poor fuckers – if I thought I'd have to live another life, I'd have ended this one a long time ago.

Maybe I'd be born wired right next time.

Maybe not.

I asked Charon what he thought about religion once, after getting cornered by that goofy priest in Rivet City. He'd spread his arms wide, "If there were a god, why the fuck do I look like this?" Good point. I've always felt put together wrong – I feel pleasure in pain. Whether it's myself or someone else, it makes little difference. I drink it in; devour it like a starving dog on a Brahmin steak. What kind of god would create someone like that?

Yeah, I'd say we both have a fair amount of self-hate. It's good to have things in common.

He'd managed to draw me out, get me out of the suite. Get me away from the liquor, really – he likes me better sober. I'm less likely to carve myself up when I'm sober. The numbness makes the Darkness go away, but I can't feel. _I bleed, I am alive, see?_ I told him one time _._ His face said it all – a puzzling mix of disgust and empathy. He said nothing; picked me up, held me against his chest – I never did it again after that.

So we left. I stopped drinking; had the Doc flush that shit out. It's still hard, though – the meds only treat the physical addiction – the mental part is up to you. I'd begun to love the taste; the burn – the warmth in my stomach, cares melting away. _Best not to think about that._

I was weak when we first started out. I'd spent too much time bitching and moaning, drunk off my ass. He'd had to redistribute the weight in the packs – which made me feel like shit; I'm sure he knew. I insisted on carrying the last slave collar I'd picked up – a souvenir, a reminder of what I was. I soak up guilt like Charon soaks up radiation.

I wish some raiders would show up, and then I can let the Darkness out.

It's hard being good. Most satisfaction I get is killing bad people – but they're more of a challenge, I guess, so it evens out. Plus, nobody cares if I take my time, playing with them like a kid tearing wings off a fly. They've done worse to other people, I'm sure.

We're headed to Evergreen Mills. While I was busy being sloshed, Charon fixed my reservist's rifle. It looks brand spankin' new. I can't wait to perch up on the cliffs and try it out. I got plenty of ammo, and plenty of patience.

"Look alive. Two o'clock." A red blip popped up on my screen. No – three.

Crouching behind a boulder, I peer through my scope to get a better look. _Raiders. Sitting in the dark, probably taking their last rest before they hoof it back to Evergreen Mills with whatever shit they managed to strip off some poor soul who had the misfortune to cross their path._

"Merry Christmas to me." Charon shoots me a squint-eyed glance – the one he does when he's not entirely sure what I mean. "Wait here." I whisper. "I wanna have a little fun."

He raises his eyebrows.

"That's an order."

He nods his head; grunts.

 _Showtime._


	2. Angel of Death

_Charon_

She takes her pack off and puts her rifle on top of it. _Wait a second_ …

 _Oh Jesus, what crazy thing is she doing now – she only has a combat knife!_

She's making a shitton of noise. Wait – she's weaving like she's drunk. She starts to sing – well, slur – "Let's go sunnin'!"

"Oh, HEY – how you fellas doin'? You got anything to drink, I run plumb dry!" _A hiccup._ All three of them sat, stunned for a couple seconds – I can hear their pants rubbing against the ground, a clink of armor, maybe a chain – they love to decorate themselves with that pointless shit. Sloppy, stupid, arrogant shit. The world ended, and they still posture, strut like peacocks. Some things never change.

They all stand up; maybe they sense she's unarmed; helpless. I grip my shotgun – despite her order to stay, if her life is in danger, I must intervene. _After all, she didn't say how long to stay._

"Well, now, what's a pretty thing like you doing out here all alone?" says the tallest one, swaggering towards her, confident in his safety. I stifle a growl – I don't know what she has planned, but it's gonna be entertaining. I'd hate to ruin it for her. She might even punish me, although it's been a long time since she has. She said she wouldn't ever punish me again, but who knows?

I sense a swift movement on her right side. A grunt.

The man gurgled, split up the middle. His buddies didn't notice anything right away, his body in between her and them. He drops to his knees; I can see his eyes, shining in the scant moonlight.

She laughs; an eerie sound. It still sends a shiver up my spine – if I still had skin on the back of my neck, I'd probably get goosebumps.

She lunges to the closest one; stabbing him in the jugular notch, the raider grabbing his throat, eyes wide, blood pouring out from between his fingers. _Her face is probably the last thing he'll ever see._

She glances at me – or, the rock where I'm crouched behind. My night vision is stronger than hers, she probably can't see me, but she knows I can see her. The remaining raider, evidently feeling that discretion was the better part of valor, turned on his heel and ran.

Even I know better than to do that. Like a dog, she can't help but chase her prey – she likes them scared, and if she's letting him get this far, she wants to spend some time on him. There is no escape from my Angel of Death – if you run, you'll just die tired. Better to fight and die quick. I've seen the alternative. It ain't pretty.

She turns, sprints – _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight –_ "OOF!" A scuffle. A male scream.

"SHUT THE FUCK UP, AND I MIGHT LET YOU LIVE!" she barks.

 _She's lying. She has no intention of letting him live._ When I first witnessed her cruelty, I was stunned, but time changes things. I tried to get her to stop, but if she doesn't take out her frustration on something, she'll lose it. I don't know if she could live with that. Good thing there was plenty of deserving targets that she could take out her rage on.

"I wonder – maybe I should take a souvenir." I could hear the man breathing, raspy, labored. She's probably sitting on his back. "Maybe an ear." A moan. "Oh, that doesn't suit you, huh? I know – I'll take a finger or two – you've got plenty of spares!"

"No, no! I have a wife – and kids!" he pleaded. That maniacal laugh again. "Is that right? Liar. You know what I hate more than cowards? Liars." I snort. _You don't hate liars – you just hate people lying to YOU, sweetheart._

The screaming took forever to stop.

"You can come out now, Charon."

I rise, brush the dirt off my knees, and walk toward her. "Feel better now?" I know she's been restless, pissed off. A lot of people are that way when they give up the bottle. All the problems come back, they get overwhelmed – gotta blow off steam somehow, I guess. There's only so much fucking and smoking she can do before the urge to hurt something gets too strong to ignore.

She wraps her arms around me. "Mmmhmm."

I hug her back, twist back and forth. "Why dontcha save one for me next time?" I ask, joking. I feel her giggle into my chest. I soak up the warmth – she practically radiates heat. Traveling at night, I get cold – the places that don't have skin leak heat like a sieve. If I don't watch out, I can get pretty stiff in a hurry.

"You wanna find a place to hit the sack?" She asks. "It's almost light."

I look at the horizon, then down at her face. She looks up at me, smiling softly, blood smeared on her cheek, soaked into the collar of her shirt. _My beautiful Angel of Death._

I give her a squeeze. "Sounds like a good idea."


	3. Frisky Business

**Warning:** Smut ahead!

* * *

 _Maleficent_

We bed down at Jocko's.

We lay on the floor behind the counter, swathed in blankets. I still get a kick out of it, how every time we stop after a cool night, he grips me and cuddles me tight, like a five-year-old with a teddy bear. I think it's more than the heat I give off – but he'd never admit it.

I dream. It's funny – you think I'd be the one giving nightmares instead of getting them. The vault is gone, but it lives on in my twisted brain.

I lost Dad a long time ago, long before the Purifier. His mind was always preoccupied – a good thing, too, or I'd have been drugged to the gills like Freddy. Down there, I had to get my jollies shooting radroaches with my BB gun and playing pranks on people, kids and adults alike. I only got caught a few times. I was pretty sly, for a kid. I never let anyone in; I never let anyone know what I was thinking. _Until him._ He had it in him, too. The Darkness. But he was trained into it, programmed – I was born in it, born with it.

It doesn't matter, though. We like to kill things. It's good to have things in common.

I take my hair down at night. Usually I take the time to put it in a somewhat orderly bun – it's not tactically sound to have hair whipping around your face in combat, shit that can be grabbed, pulled. I can't tell you how many raiders' throats I've slit after grabbing their greasy rat's nests. I complained once, told him that I should just shave off my whole mop, but that look on his face pleaded with me not to. He likes to run his hands through it. Come to think of it, he touches me a lot more now – possessively, almost. Ballsy. Maybe I'll have to remind him who holds the contract in this relationship. He'd like that.

When we wake up, it's mid-afternoon, my head resting on his arm.

Well, when I wake up, anyway. As usual, he's already pawing at me. Some mornings, I give in easily. Sometimes, I don't give in at all – it's fun to frustrate him. He knows I'll give in eventually – I have needs, too, ya know – but the release feels so much better after it's bottled up for a little while. _Ah, what the Hell._

"Good morning." I mumble. "Couldn't keep your hands to yourself?"

"What fun would that be?" he nips my earlobe. _Oh, dirty pool. You naughty thing._

A rough hand creeps up under the front of my shirt, cups my right breast. Squeezes it. "Hey, now. I didn't tell you that you could do that."

"You didn't tell me I couldn't."

The hand creeps south, fingers the waistband of my pants.

"Oh, really." I clap my hand on top of his, and he freezes. I can feel his pulse quicken, muscles tighten. Waiting for an order. I wonder how long I can toy with him before he loses patience and starts begging. I like to hear him beg.

He likes the game, likes to give me what I want. I don't know if that was programmed into him, or if it's just a natural response to me. " _Please."_

"Sounds like someone's discipline is rusty." He squirms against me, hot breath on my neck.

I lift my hand; lay it back on the floor. "Do continue."

I feel more than hear my pants button pop open, the zipper sliding down. His hand slides slowly, deliciously under my panties, tickles my curlies. Deftly, he parts my soft folds and lightly brushes my clit. He moves his hand, delicately, rhythmically, gradually speeding as my breath quickens, soft, wordless, gasps. _Almost there. Wow, that was quick._

Abruptly, he folds his left arm, pressing against my chest, pressing me into him. My head lolls, exposing the soft flesh of my neck, a temptation he can't resist. He bites down, hard enough to get a reaction, soft enough not to break the skin.

The pain pushes me over the edge. Bucking against him, I come, violently, my cries bouncing off the walls of the empty store. For a blissful moment, the whole universe is between my legs, the blinding light of a thousand stars behind my eyelids. He slows, stops.

"Mmm…" He kisses my throat.

"That was a lot of work. Something tells me you expect…reciprocation."

He grinds his hips against me. I can't help it; a low moan escapes me. All I have to do is give the command – then he'll take control; get what he needs from me. It sounds like we use each other, and I suppose we do – but if we're both happy, then what's the problem?

"I'm yours."

He rolls me over onto my chest, roughly, yanking my pants down to just above my knees. I lay there, silent, savoring the cool air on my buttocks. He drags his calloused fingers down my back, squeezes my ass. He hooks his left forearm under my hips, and hauls me to my knees.

I hear the clink of his belt buckle, and shiver with anticipation.

Two fingers press at my opening. Slowly, methodically, they slip inside, out, in and out. "Oooh, you _cunt_ tease."

He gives my left ass cheek a heavy slap. "Naughty girl. Better close that dirty mouth before I put something in it." I tighten around his fingers, and he grunts. _Two can play at this game._

He straddles my legs, spreads me open, and slowly, agonizingly slow, enters me. I push against him, and he stops. "Patience, patience," he chides. "Sounds like someone's discipline is rusty."

I knew I was gonna regret that comment.

"I'll punish you for this." I retort.

"No you won't." He's right. I'm enjoying it as much as he is.

He grips my hips tighter, pulls them to him forcefully to meet his next thrust. I cry out, " _Please." Oh, how the tables have turned…_

"Oh – is that what you want?"

"Ohhh, yes!"

"As you command."

He leans over me, and presses his hand into my back, forcing me onto my elbows, arms straight forward, tipping my ass farther into the air. Rudely, he thrusts into me, deep, almost painful, over and over again, every blessed inch caressing me inside, filling me. I squeeze tight, tighter around him, and he loses what little control he has left, releasing himself deep inside me with a guttural shout.

As if it were choreographed, we disentangle and collapse onto our left sides, breathing heavily.

He digs into a pocket on his pack, takes out a clean rag, and tosses it at me. "You might want to clean yourself up before you mess the sheets."

 _Always Mr. Practical._


	4. Talk to Me

_Charon_

The ritual after is almost as satisfying as the act itself.

Tossing her a clean rag, I retrieve a pack of cigarettes from the sales counter. While she cleans up, I light one, then another, with a lighter she pulled off a dead Regulator before she even met me. I hand her the cigarette, and we smoke in silence for a few minutes, leaned up against the counter.

"Why don't you ever strip me?" She asks.

I consider the question – truth be told, I just find it more arousing to remain partially clothed. Soft skin peeking out from underneath clothing, begging to be touched, a present to be unwrapped… _down, boy._

"I find it more…arousing."

"Why?"

 _Ah, fuck – here we go._ "It implies haste. Passion."

"Go on."

 _Sometimes I think she loves watching me squirm._ "It makes me think about you…naked."

"So, you tease yourself?"

 _That's an interesting way to put it._ "Well…yes. In a way."

"I suppose it's hard to explain these things anyway. If you asked me why I liked being slapped and bitten, I wouldn't be able to give you an answer." She sighs. "I suppose we are what we are. Ain't no changin' it."

She's become more talkative since she kicked the booze. _Ah, well – nobody's perfect._

"Charon, do you remember when we talked about the Darkness?"

 _Do I ever. Sitting out on the balcony of her Tenpenny suite, staring at the stars, both of us half-drunk._ "Yes."

She stands up, hops a little, sits on the counter next to me. I hand her another cigarette – hers is about done, and she likes them when she's thinking.

"I can still feel it in there." She points to the side of her head. "I don't think I'll ever get rid of it."

I rest my right hand on her knee. "I understand." _I do. I've felt it, too – but I've lived with it longer. The beast can never be tamed, but it can be contained._

"I know you do. You have your employers to help direct you, control it. I have to learn it from scratch." She becomes silent. Her eyes are glassy, the way she gets when she's drawn into a memory. I reach up; run my hand through her glossy raven hair. Her eyes close, and she leans into my hand.

 _I don't know what to say._

"Tell me what it feels like." She murmurs.

"What?"

"Being a ghoul."

I take a minute to arrange my thoughts, stoking her eyebrow with my thumb. She's never asked me this before – the only thing we really know about each other is what we've shared through everyday interactions, orders – aside from a brief introduction when she bought my contract. And drunken ramblings, on her part.

"It's cold. And…lonely."

Her eyes slowly open, a smile. "But not anymore, huh?"

I meet her gaze. "No. Not anymore."


	5. Who Am I?

_Maleficent_

"FUCK! " I jump off the counter and heave the ashtray across the room, where it smashes into the wall, and ricochets off some metal shelving.

Charon, just a few feet away crouched on the floor, busying himself with our packs, glances up at me. "I am not a machine."

 _Nice joke, smartass._ "That was rhetorical – or something."

 _I wasn't supposed to get involved with anyone_. Life is easier when you don't care. Sure, I'd rolled in the hay with a few people before I met him, but I'd never talked to them about my life. About the Darkness. I never asked them about themselves.

Then why did I care about him so much? It wasn't that the Darkness was in him – it was in a lot of people. A post-nuclear wasteland tends to favor the smartest, the strongest, and the most brutal. People who aren't afraid to kill. People who bend morality to their own purpose. Mister Burke for instance.

 _That's probably why Charon hated it at Tenpenny – the jealousy got too much for him._ He'd stare daggers at him every time we bumped into Burke outside the suite. I tried to explain it to him. _One torrid evening doesn't mean I want to jump his bones every time I see him. Besides, I'm with you now._ I'm…with…you…now.

"Who the fuck am I?"

"You are Mallie." Charon replies, still fiddling with the packs. _Probably redistributing weight for my weak ass._

"Again…rhetorical."

I begin to pace the shop. Back and forth, back and forth. _Maybe I should send him away. Surrender to the Darkness again._

No. I've passed the point of no return. Burned those bridges. If I got within fifty yards of Paradise Falls, Eulogy would have me shot on sight. I'm surprised he hasn't sent anyone after me yet. _Wouldn't that be just wonderful? Poetic justice if I wind up in a collar._

I close my eyes, try to find some happy memories. Clearing out that raider nest; the picnic table. Him cleaning out a bullet wound, jamming a stimpak in my leg. Making me eat when I was too drunk to care. Holding me at night without asking permission. Curled up with him on the floor, my pleasure his first concern. A command: _I'm yours._

 _I'M YOURS._

My eyes spring open – I turn to him. He's standing, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Watching me. Waiting for orders _. I'm yours_. It seemed so…natural. But strange at the same time.

THAT'S ME. I am his.

* * *

Trudging underneath the hot sun, nothing to do but think. _Man, I wish I did a better job putting up my hair._ A few strands had already worked their way free and were tickling the back of my neck. I was too preoccupied to care, and too proud to ask him to help.

"Charon – what will happen to us?" I ask. "I'll get old. I'll die. What will you do?"

"I will die with you. Or I will live."

I furrow my brow. "What if you do live?"

 _Hesitation._ "I will find a new employer. I'll be compelled to do so."

"But you won't want to."

 _More hesitation._ "No."

After a few more minutes, I gather up the courage to ask my next question. " _HOW_ would you live?"

"I don't understand."

"If I lost you…I don't think I could go on." My gut twisted. _Uncharted territory._

He stopped to face me, tilted his head to the right a little. He looked concerned. "Mallie, I will always have you. An employer can take my dignity, but they cannot take my memories."

I slump to the ground, on my knees, clutching my chest. _Something inside me is broken._

"Are you injured?!"

 _YES, I'm bursting open!_ I clench my hands into tight fists, slam them into my thighs, over and over again. _I DON'T WANT TO CARE! When did it change, when did I change, WHY WHY WHY?"_

I can feel him kneel beside me, concerned. My hands are wet. _How did they get wet?_ And what is that awful sound? _Is something dying?_ He's manhandling me, lifting my arm, poking, prodding, looking for wounds, injuries. Not finding anything, he stands. He bends, lifts my chin, and looks into my eyes.

"Hush now. It will be okay."

I take his proffered hand, he hauls me up, and we continue to Evergreen Mills.


	6. Memories, Memories

_Charon_

 _Did I say something wrong?_

I've never seen her cry before. Even when she drank herself silly. Even when she talked about her Dad, or about the vault. I've seen her with cuts, burns, and bullet holes, and she didn't cry.

She might not be the most morally sound employer I've ever had, but she's certainly been the best. The most lenient. The most forgiving. The most…physical.

It's true, though. They can take everything from me, but they can't take my memories of her. They are my best memories; the least painful. If I have nothing left, I'll still have them.

I'd die for her.

But then again, I would have died for any employer. That's the way I was programmed.

 _It would be easier for her if she died before me_. That's not the way things usually work – women have had to bear the survivor's burden since the beginning.

But I am stronger. She would break apart. I will not.

She's quiet now – probably as shocked at crying as I am at seeing her cry. I'm not used to people crying for me. They have cried _because_ of me. Tear-stained faces are part and parcel of my profession. I'm the one inflicting pain and suffering, at the behest of another. I can't say no, and they don't understand why. They wouldn't, even if I had been allowed to tell them.

When I met her, she'd become one with the Darkness – the evil thing that exists in all of us, to a degree. She had more than most, and it's hard for her to fight it. Without trying to, I changed her. Made her question her allegiances. She found…remorse. I don't know when exactly it happened. After the picnic table, after we'd reached an "arrangement."

I remember a morning – both of us fell asleep, her much more drunk than I could ever get in my…condition. We'd taken blankets and piled them out on the balcony. She'd wanted to talk under the stars; watch the sun rise.

She'd gotten hot, and stripped off everything, except for that goofy computer on her arm. I've never seen her without it, even in the shower. I sat beside her and stroked her hair while she talked. The temperature drops at night, low enough to make me stiff – and the alcohol doesn't warm me up like it does for smoothskins. She'd bundled me up in layers so I could stay out there with her in relative comfort, even when I told her she didn't have to.

She hates hearing that I've endured much worse. I try to avoid saying it.

That was when she told me about the Darkness in her. About how it felt like a cool fog in her head, freezing empathy, stifling pity; how it gripped her heart and turned it to stone when someone begged for mercy. It hungered for blood and violence, raged when ignored. She began to see people as objects, cattle, possessions to be bought and sold.

Then she met me, and it all changed.

"When I bought your contract, I didn't think nothin' of it" she slurred. "You were just another slave to me, a man with a gun who couldn't shoot me."

 _Certainly no different from anyone else that ever bought me._

She went on. "But the way you looked at that woman, when I told you to shoot her…"

 _The woman we met on the road…alone, no one for miles, it seemed._

"I told you to stop, 'member? My first…good deed. I saved her from me."

I nodded.

"I figgered I'd send myself to Hell, but I be damned if I'd send you wi' me."

I stroked her hair until she went to sleep. I nodded off against a column, and woke just as the sun was rising.

 _She took my breath away._

Lying there, curled up in the sheets, light skin on white linen. Her hair, a dark halo, surrounding her serene face. Her skin, a snarled web of pearlescent scars – cuts, bites, burns, bullets – stimpaks heal fast, but the drawback is a permanent reminder of why you had to use one in the first place.

The sheet she'd snuggled into the night before had carelessly slipped down, exposing the soft curve of her left breast, her dusky nipple contrasting with her alabaster skin. A light smile graced her face, as the sunlight crept over her body.

She looked like a Renaissance painting come to life.

So much beauty, I couldn't bear it.

That was when I began to love her.


	7. Fish in a Barrel

_Maleficent_

 _Jesus, these guys are stupid._

We'd reached Evergreen Mills in the middle of the night, and set up a nice comfy sniper's nest. I'd crept a bit further down the cliffside and scouted out a few more potential perches, just in case we decided to move during our assault – or even if we decided to leave, then come back later to pester 'em a bit more. I hadn't decided whether or not I wanted to go in – there were slaves in there I wanted to free, but I wasn't too keen on dying for them. _Glad to get to work, glad to stop thinking about…fuck, just STOP._

"How many you think I can hit before they find out where I am?" I ask Charon. He's a bit more experienced with the realities of sniping. Training, programming, whatever.

"Three. Maybe four."

A bright man, wise to the wastes, would be able to find me after a shot or two. Or, at least, know enough about where I was to find adequate cover. But these were hopped-up junkies we were talking about, more chems in their veins than blood, probably.

The raiders had positioned their base in the middle of a bowl. _This is gonna be like shooting fish in a barrel. Stoned fish in an irradiated barrel._

Shortly after dawn, Charon and I were quietly discussing who to shoot first, when we heard an angry bellow. _Man, the acoustics of that place…you can hear out on the rim if someone cuts a loud fart._

"WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN, 'THEY'RE DEAD?'"

A nervous whine. "Razor, we found 'em comin' in. Two of 'em stabbed, and Ripper, well…"

"WELL, WHAT?!"

"It looked like he got in a fight with a lawnmower and lost."

 _I guess that would be my handiwork._

Charon looked over at me, a smirk on his face.

 _Well, now, we've found a winner!_

I sight in on him. Without dividing my attention, I ask, "Head or gut?"

"Depends on how much fuckin' screaming you want to hear."

 _It oughta echo nicely. Time to feed the Darkness._

* * *

BLAM! The shot was louder than I thought it'd be, but we were out in the open – my ears would recover soon enough.

Through my scope, I watched a bloody flower blossom on Razor's shirt, just above his belly button. He fell, screaming like – well, like he'd been gut-shot.

Everyone not stoned out of their minds grabbed the nearest weapon and started looking around, screaming, making asses of themselves – pretty much what I expected. They were running around in every direction, even accusing one another of shooting him. A few of them bunched together in a tight group.

"Morons." I sighted in, shot some lucky bastard's head off. _Lucky – well, relatively. I could've shot him in the gut_. Razor was still screaming, albeit a bit more pitifully. It was annoying me, but fuck him. .308s were expensive, and I'll be damned if I'm gonna waste another bullet on that fucker. He'd shut up quick enough.

The other two jumped back, took off in different directions. I waited for them to settle, picked off another standing near the gate to the building's entrance. Then another, trying to creep into a rusty sheet-metal shelter.

I heard the chatter of a sub-machine gun, saw the bullets impact – a lot lower than we were, but in the right direction. "Well, four. Guess I owe you something later."

"Hmph." He gives my ass cheek a squeeze.

"Not the time, nor the place."

* * *

 _Charon_

She's learned well. Not a round wasted.

 _My Angel of Death, smiting sinners from above._

"We've scared them enough. Let's wait a while, pack it in, then we'll hit 'em tonight." _Sounds good to me._

Waiting…with nothing to occupy us but our thoughts. We slowly roll onto our backs, stare at the sky. We'll give 'em time to settle. The dumb shits won't even bother coming to look for us. In a little bit, we'll pack up, and get ready for tonight. Maybe take a nap. Maybe I can talk her into… _nah, I don't wanna wear her out._

 _I'd give my right arm to know what she's thinking right now._

* * *

 _Maleficent_

We lay and listen to the pandemonium. There's more shooting, but nothing comes close. Maybe they'll all shoot each other and save us the trouble of going down there. _Nah – I'm pretty lucky, but I'm not THAT lucky._

I repress the urge to fiddle with my Pip-Boy. _Nothing's changed since you looked at it last. Just four rounds lighter._

I'd do anything to not have to think about myself. Who I am. What to do.

I've never been so confused. I want to leave, just walk away from him…but I want to stay more. I'm tired of fighting the Darkness…but I'm intrigued. Who will I become if I fight it? Will I become stronger? Will I find some semblance of peace? Do I really want peace?

I've backed myself into a corner, really. There's no way to go back to the way it was. Nowhere to go but forward.


	8. Mr Sandman

_Maleficent_

Shortly after dark, we head down the cliffs. The road in looks like a shooting gallery, mines everywhere, so we figured that climbing was safer. Charon insists on going first, easing the packs down, then helping me down the rest of the way. _I guess height is an advantage in this situation_.

We perch on the last ledge, killing a little clock until the remaining raiders drink and drug themselves silly. Motherfuckers will probably be so fucked up, they'll come at us with baseball bats.

We're both carrying combat shotguns. For close quarters, there's nothing better. Plus, it makes us feel like a team – well, it makes me feel like that anyway. I also think he likes it – watching me work with his favorite weapon. I might need it just to get him off me tomorrow morning.

We smile at each other. _Almost time._ The anticipation is killing me.

When all we hear are heavy snores, he silently swings off the low ledge, and drops to the ground. Next the packs – which he stashes behind a pile of rusted junk. I swing over, and he catches me, lowers me deftly to the ground. _No funny business this time. There's work to be done._

"Knives first." He nods in agreement.

We work together, taking turns slitting throats. _Four down…well, eight now._

As we approach another half-finished rusted out shack – my turn – he touches my arm, squeezes, flashes two fingers at me. _Be careful. There's two in there._

I give him a half-hearted salute. _Yessir! Whatever you say, sir!_

As I'm finishing with the first – _Jesus, why do all these guys have to stink like they rolled in shit? –_ the greasy bastard kicks an empty tin can, in a death spasm. The other raider jumps up, suddenly sober, and I'm staring down the barrel of a gun.

"Easy now." I say.

"You killed Slasher!"

A gravelly voice behind him, calm. "Drop the fuckin' gun."

The man freezes, as a shotgun barrel is gently placed on the back of his head.

"I will not say it again. Drop the fuckin' gun, and shut the fuck up."

 _Thump._

I can't help myself. "Baby, I love it when you talk like that."

He rolls his eyes. _Fine, back to business._

"Now, Mr.?"

"Um…Blade."

"Mr. Blade – how many of you are here?"

The man doesn't answer right away, so Charon pokes him in the back of the head with his shotgun barrel. "The lady asked you a question."

"I…I dunno! A lot. Maybe fifteen, but I'm sure some of them went inside, to the bazaar."

I considered his answer. "A marketplace, huh…I suppose there's more down there. I'm sure it has a bar, a shop, and knowing raiders, a whorehouse…?" _And lots of chems we could sell._

"Yeah."

"So, Mr. Blade – how fast do you want to die?"

"I don't wanna die at all!" _Good grief, he's gonna start to beg. Go out with some dignity, man._

"Well, it's too late for that, honey. If I turn you loose, you're just gonna tell people I'm here. I'm sure you don't want to die like Ripper." I raise my knife; gently tap the tip of it with my left index finger. "He lied to me, you know." _Gah, he's crying now, for Pete's sake._

"Charon, whaddaya say? Guns blazing, or stealth? Your call."

I can read it in his eyes. _The Darkness_.

I step aside, and then take a few steps back. "As you wish."

 _Blade's head explodes in a roar, and all Hell breaks loose._


	9. Killing Machine

_Charon_

 _Fuck, I love this._

It's what I was made for. Back to back with my employer, serving up death.

"Head for cover! Now!" she yells.

We gotta get back to the packs. We've got a couple reloads each, but it won't hold out forever.

We jump behind a rusty shack, about ten yards away from our goal, when I hear Mallie grunt. "You okay back there?" I yell, over the steady pop of a 9mm pistol. _They're shooting wild, at anything that moves. Good, maybe they'll shoot each other._

"Yeah, I'm fine! Let's get to the packs!"

"Ah, shit!" BOOM! BOOM! She nails a raider dumb enough to try and rush us from behind, square in the chest, dropping him.

"You okay back there?!"

"For the last fuckin' time, I'm fine! GET TO THE PACKS!"

I hear the 9mm stop. _Reloading._ I pop out and nail the fucker, once in the chest, once in the head.

"Well, that takes care of that." We sprint for the packs, and thankfully, no one shoots at us.

"I got a plan." She says, shouting over the noise. "Hand me a grenade."

"WHAT?"

"GRENADE. NOW. ORDER."

I hand her a frag grenade and she leans in, yells close to where my ear used to be, "They have a Behemoth in that pen! I'm gonna blow the generator, open the gate, and we'll run inside!"

"What about the packs?"

"Can you get both of them? I need speed!"

"Yeah!"

She pulls the pin.

"THEN LET'S GET THIS FUCKIN' SHOW ON THE ROAD!"

She tosses it, and it explodes seconds later, blowing the generator.

"GO, GO, GO!"

I snatch up the packs with one hand, and run for the door, shotgun in the other.

* * *

It works like a charm. Even after a month holed up in the suite, she's fast.

The Behemoth roars behind us as we charge the door. I open the door, she rushes through, and at the last second, a stray bullet lodges itself in my right ass cheek. _Oof, goddamit! Well…that's embarrassing._ She barricades the door with a two-by-four lodged against the metal railing as we're rushed by two meatheads with more muscles than brains. I'm able to finish one off before he gets off a shot, but the other one manages to catch us both with a spray of birdshot.

 _I'm so glad these dipshits have no fucking idea what ammo they're using._ She takes care of him – two to the chest – and we pause, listening to the building. She stabs her left arm with a stimpak; checks her Pip-Boy. "Four more, all spread out. We'll just have to go room to room. Are you hurt?"

"Not seriously. It can wait."

"It's serious to me. Where?"

"In the…uh…leg."

She produces a stimpak. "In the thigh?"

"NO."

"Then for fuck's sake, where?!"

"In my ASS. Right side."

She cuts off a snort. "Bend over, then."

"It can wait."

"NO. IT CAN NOT. Loosen your belt and BEND OVER. NOW."

I comply. I can't disobey direct orders. No loopholes in this one.

She yanks my waistband down. "Close enough." _A needle prick. Fuck, that shit itches like crazy. At least it works fast, anyway._

"Better?" she asks.

"Yeah. Let's move before they start shooting at us."

"Good plan. Lead the way."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Shot in the ass! Ha! _I'll have to tease him about it later, when he's not so sensitive about it._

We work our way through the building, none of the remaining raiders proving to be that much of a challenge. One was carrying a key to the storage room, which I couldn't help but open.

"Aww, COOL! A Fat Man!"

"Put that down. You're gonna hurt somebody with that thing." Charon snaps. _He's awful testy. I guess that happens when you take a bullet to the ass. Must bruise the ego something awful._

"Isn't that the point?" I tie it to the back of my pack, then I start digging, getting rid of extra weight. _Why the fuck did I grab this scrap metal, anyway? Buh-bye!_

"Let's eat. It's been hours."

"Yes, _MOM."_ We tuck into some mac n' cheese, an apple, and a box of snack cakes.

After enjoying a cigarette in silence, we were on the move.

* * *

 _Charon_

We head to the door marked 'Bazaar.' "You ready?"

She smiles. "I was _born_ ready! Now move your ass, before it gets shot off."

 _Sigh._ "You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?"

"Nope. You can take your frustration out on me later." _Hmm…that's a game changer. I can live with that._

She glances at her Pip-Boy. "Another six in there. Hmm – and one friendly."

"Ladies first."

She opens the door and waltzes in, like she owns the joint. There's nobody in the immediate area, just a collapsed floor leading to caves below. We dump our packs on the floor.

"Let's do this thing." She turns, hands to her face. "HEY ASSHOLES, COME AND GET IT!" she yells.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" _God forbid we do anything the easy way._

"Nothin! Now keep up!" She barrels down the makeshift ramp, shooting from the hip when she finds a target.

 _FUCK!_

I follow her lead – after all, there's no loopholes and – "MotherFUCKER!" I feel my armor deflect a bullet, fire in the general direction it came from, and I'm rewarded with a squeal of pain. _Probably didn't finish him off, but it'll give him pause._

She's about five yards ahead, shooting at a greasy asshole to her left when a bitch in an iron bra and leather pants fogs out of nowhere, opening up with a sub-machine gun. My girl freezes, then drops to the floor with a dull thud. "MALLIE!"

I blow the bitch's head off, and finish off Mallie's primary target, who seemed too shocked by the sudden appearance of a seven-foot-tall ghoul to react. Head on a swivel, I approach, terrified of what I might find.

She groans as I slide an arm underneath her shoulders and start to lift her up.

"Gimme a fuckin' stimpak."

"Yes ma'am. Next time do me a favor and warn me before you do something this stupid."

She jabs it into her left side, just below her ribs, and glares at me. "Fuck you."

"Later."

"Ah, dammit." She winces.

"What's wrong now?" _We're running out of time._

 _"_ My leg. Gimme another -" _Pop! Pop! Pop!_

"SHIT!" I grab the back of her armor and drag her behind the nearest cover, a bookshelf that someone dragged down here. _Good thing it's solid wood._

"How many are left?" I yell at her, while she plays with the dials on that stupid wrist computer.

"Three in here! I got one comin' in, and you got those two!" _In here?_

 _We gotta move, before we get pinned down._ "Got your SMG?"

"Sure. Why?"

"I got an idea. Cover me!"

"What the fuck are you – AAAAH, MY LEG!"

"Sorry!" I pick her up, toss her over my left shoulder like a sack of potatoes and sprinted for a row of pool tables, and right into the line of fire of an injured raider whose reflexes, luckily, were slower than mine. _Probably the guy I winged earlier._ As her SMG chattered at my back – cover fire – I managed a square shot to his chest.

"Got one!" she yells.

"Me too!"

I dump her behind a pool table – not the best cover, but it'll do – and cover her while she digs out a stimpak and jams it into her left thigh. "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?" she screamed at me.

"Didn't like my plan?"

"Not if it involved digging at an exit wound in my fuckin' LEG. Jesus, Charon!"

"Yeah, sorry about that. Unavoidable. So - one more?" I ask.

"Yeah. And four in the whorehouse."

 _WHAT?_ I gaped at her.

"Hey, would you have wanted to come down here if I told you ten?"

 _Point taken._ "Let's go."

* * *

She got the last one running up another ramp, and we set some mines at the door of the whorehouse and got three. She took care of a whore, who went at her with a knife. The madam's key yielded some caps, not a big haul, but it would replace the stimpaks we ate up in this little venture.

"Let's find the bar. I'm thirsty."


	10. Bottoms Up

_Maleficent_

"Woo! That was fun!"

I hop up on a bar stool, as Charon shakes his head.

He leans over to my ear and through clenched teeth, growls, "It'd be more fun if I could bend you over this bar and-"

"Well, hiya, sir – could I get a whiskey?" Charon retreats to the other side of the room, grumbling.

"Welcome, little lady! I'm Smilin' Jack – and this here is my little slice of heaven. " He slides the bottle over to me. "And who's your big friend here?"

"That's Charon. Charon, say hi."

He growls. "Charon, that's not nice."

More grumbling.

"He's feeling too much like himself today." I smile.

"Haha! Happens to the best of us. Is there anything else I can get for you? Liquor, chems? An ice-cold Nuka-Cola?" he flashes a wide grin. _A born salesman._ "No thanks, the whiskey will be fine. We'll be heading off shortly."

"Right! Well, if you ever need anything in this neck of the woods, just think of Smilin' Jack!" He slaps the bar with both hands for emphasis, then busies himself with organizing the items on the shelves behind the other end of the L-shaped bar.

"Charon, do you want me to drink this whole bottle on my own?"

"God, no. You just got off the bottle for Christ's sake."

"A nip or two won't hurt me none. Stop being a party pooper and get over here."

We dispensed with the glasses, and just passed it back and forth, chain-smoking. Nothing needed to be said. Well, at least on my part. _Something's on his mind. If he's pissed off, he'll just have to come out and say what it is. I don't read minds._

He clears his throat. _Here it comes._

"You've been thinking about ordering me away."

I jerk a little, surprised. _Maybe HE reads minds._

My reaction was all he needed to continue. "If you want me to leave, I will go. Just give me the order."

"But, Charon, I don't want…"

" – me to go? Are you sure about that?" he interrupts.

"Yes."

"Oh, and how are you so sure? The Darkness calls, Mallie. Is it louder than your obligation to me?"

 _Fuck, that stings._ I feel the rage fill my chest, and… _I have to remember to keep it down._ God only knows what information Smiling Jack passes on, and to whom.

"NO." This seemed to satisfy him. He takes a swig. A lazy drag on his cigarette.

"Do you like hurting me?" I ask, taking the bottle from him.

"I could ask you the same."

 _Oh! Twist that knife, babe. You're so good at it._

The whiskey burns down my throat, warmth blossoms in my stomach. "I suppose…we always hurt the ones we love."

It was his turn to react. "Is that a declaration I hear?"

I never told him in so many words. He told me he loved me, months ago. I hadn't reciprocated, so he backed off. _God, that must have been painful._ I've traveled with him, lived with him, killed with him – fucked him – for months, and never said it. Every day, he must have felt like I feel now – like a lead weight is in my stomach, and it feels like nothing can make it go away. How much strength must it take to nurse unrequited love for months – living with that very person? Touching them – close, but still so far away? Fuck it.

"Yes. I love you."

Still staring straight ahead, he reaches over and grasps my hand, which has been gripped in a tight fist on my knee ever since his first barb.

"Don't worry. I still love you."

I lean forward onto my elbow, and cry into my whiskey glass, a living cliché.


	11. Silence is Golden

_Maleficent_

I decide that we should bed down in the room across from the storage room, up in the foundry. The bed looks clean and comfortable, which above and beyond most beds in the wasteland. We drop our packs in a corner.

"We're spending the-" _a glance at the time on my Pip-Boy_ "morning here. It's almost sunrise. We'll head out after we wake up."

As soon as the door closes, he smothers me from behind.

"STOP!" I command. He freezes. "Hands above the equator. I'm tired, dirty, and sore – you can have your fun later, after I take a nice hot shower at the suite." _And if you start begging, so help me…_

His lecherous wanderings become a firm hug.

"Oof, you're cold! Take your armor off and get into bed. I'll join you in a second."

I take my own armor off and slowly remove the bobby pins from my bun. He loves watching me do this, the anticipation building towards me pulling out my hair tie, and shaking it all loose. He has a thing for my hair – I don't know if all ghouls feel the same way, but since they don't have much, I don't see the harm with any of them coveting mine.

Plus, I like him playing with it. It…soothes me.

I hop into bed, in pants and a tank top, no bra. Brassieres aren't common in the wasteland. If you can find one, it's usually either threadbare, or the wrong damn size. Usually too large – food is scarce, and boobs are fat, after all. The one I ran out of the Vault wearing is already too big. I've trimmed quite a bit of baby fat over the last six months or so.

As soon as I snuggle under the sheets, he pulls me close to him and… _purrs_. An odd sound, for such a large man. I stifle a giggle. _Brrr! It feels like I'm cuddling with something that came straight out of the vault's walk-in freezer._ I'll have to be careful next time, not to work him too hard when it's chilly. The cold and damp of the caves probably just sucked the heat right out of him. It's hard to be mindful of someone else's needs – for the vast majority of my life, I didn't have to worry about anyone else but me.

"You know…you can tell me when you're cold." I tell him.

"I am almost always cold." _Yeesh. Sucks to be you._

"I mean, tell me when it starts to be uncomfortable for you. I can't read your mind." I find his icy hand; squeeze it.

"As you wish. I will inform you when the temperature starts to affect my…operational effectiveness."

"Ah, Jesus, don't say it like that. You sound like you're talking about a machine." _You're a MAN, dammit!_

"Would you rather me have said, 'performance'"? He says, in a near-whisper. I can feel him smiling. _You lech. Take a cold shower._

"Trust me – I have no problem with your…performance." I yawn. "Now go to sleep. When we wake up, we'll free those slaves and head back to the suite. Then you can take your pound of flesh."

* * *

 _Charon_

I pull her close, then stroke her hair as she falls asleep. _Hopefully, there are no nightmares tonight._ They've been tapering off, but they're by no means rare. She hasn't told me what they're about, or who's in 'em – and I'm not sure I wanna know.

I close my eyes, soak up her heat. I listen to her gentle, even breathing.

I rarely sleep deeply – and never outside of the suite. No place is safe, and my employer needs me. Besides, I need much less sleep than smoothskins – or even ghouls, for that matter. There were ghouls in Underworld who believed I didn't sleep at all. Let 'em believe the legend – keep 'em scared.

I think about the battle in the caves. I can't ever remember being frightened…until that moment, when I saw her slump to the ground, shot by a junkie raider whore. I squeeze her tighter. _I don't wanna lose you. Stop doing stupid shit, for the love of..._

When I told her I loved her, months ago, I meant it. Yeah, it hurt that she didn't return it, but I don't want a lie. I compartmentalize well – if she didn't love me, then that was that. _Set it aside, protect her, and follow orders_. Enjoy the physical benefits while they last. Tell the truth, I didn't expect her to say it, ever. But I was always open to the possibility.

Her shell is very hard. She doesn't want to let anyone in.

We look so different, you wouldn't think that we'd even get along, much less become…physically intimate. Ghouls and humans don't seem to mix all that well, despite our shared genetic heritage.

But Mallie and me…we share The Darkness. We're both practical – so much, we're almost brutal. Neither of us minces words. We don't want to talk about our past. We both feel pain, and hide it, even from each other.

I don't want to leave, even if she wanted me to go.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I never noticed the smell of him before.

A mix of leather and wet copper, sweet like blood. Stronger, when he warms up. _I wonder what I smell like to him._

Tell you the truth; I never really cared what he smelled like until now. I've used him for a long time – but I've also enslaved people, so I can live with having used him for a while. I've got plenty of time to redeem myself.

I wonder – just how much is an "I love you" going to change everything? Do I even know enough about love to be able to say that I love anyone? Can the Devil of the wastes even love?

He seems to think so. I suppose that'll have to be good enough.

I've always woken up slowly – something I've struggled with since, well, forever.

He must sense me waking up – he starts to stroke my hair, and I lean into him. His response is a hand up my shirt. "Patience, patience. " I remind him.

"You said 'Hands above the equator.' These are above the equator." He squeezes my right breast for emphasis, then rolls the nipple between his rough thumb and forefinger.

"Oooh…" _he can play me like a fiddle._

 _His lips against my neck, sucking wetly._

"Oooh, you evil thing." _Play me, maestro._

He chuckles, against my neck.

"You know we have to go." I say. _He must know that I'm seconds away from capitulating. I'm terrible at delayed satisfaction._

"Yes, ma'am." He stops immediately, hops out of bed, and starts to put his armor on. Leaving me – hot and bothered – curled up in a mess of sheets.

"Aren't you going to finish what you started?" I pout.

"You said we will finish at the suite, after you take a warm shower. Have your wishes changed?"

 _GOD. DAMN. IT._

"No. And yes." He looks confused. "Just get ready to go. Fuck's sake…" I moan into the pillow out of pure frustration. "And you better wipe that smile off your face. I know what you were doing." _A snort._ "Yeah, laugh about it, too. Laugh it up."

* * *

 _Charon_

I cover her out the door, through the gate, and to the slave pens. A cursory glance tells me what I expected to find – the Behemoth, killed by mines and potshots from the remaining raiders that were up on the cliffs surrounding the entrance – or, exit, depending on which way you're going.

There's no raiders down here. _Never thought I'd ever want to thank a Behemoth._

She makes short work of the slave pen lock; her lock picking skill is fast approaching legendary. She tells them to wait until we can clear the cliffs and the mines – probably a good idea; the Behemoth couldn't have tripped them all.

What little resistance we find is pitiful at best. Dirty, greasy, strung out junkies with shitty aim and weapons that were long past their prime. Pathetic. We work our way out by mid-afternoon, pausing for a brief snack at the entrance. She managed to disarm five live mines; those things come in handy for the big radscorps. We killed a few coming in, so we expected having to kill a few on the way back to Tenpenny.

I don't really care for Tenpenny, but it's safer than a lot of other places in the wasteland. It's not like we got anyplace else to go. She didn't exactly make her a lot of friends in the months before I knew her.

 _Fuckin' Burke. I'd like to put a bullet in his smug –_

"A cap for your thoughts?" Mallie asks.

"Oh, uh…just thinking that we should get moving if you want to make it by dark."

* * *

The trip back was slow – she wanted to take her time, probably because I wound her up and teased her. It doesn't bother me as much as she thinks it does. I keep myself occupied by thinking about what I'm gonna do with her – and _to_ her – when we get back to the suite.

I stood in a corner for years. Patience is my bread and butter.

 _Make fun of me, will you? I'll tan your ass. Throw you over my knee and make it redder than…_

"Charon, you're awful thoughtful lately." She says, surprising me. It's been at least an hour since we spoke to one another, only stopping to light the errant cigarette. "Mind if I ask what you're thinking about?"

 _If I say 'nothing,' she'll know it's something about her._

"Just wishing I had time to inventory the packs before we left." She pats me on the arm. "Don't worry about it." She points into the distance. "There it is – see? Not far away at all."

She pulls a pack of cigarettes out of her back pocket. I have an urge to cup her ass cheek but remember ' _Hands above the equator.' Fuck. No fun at all._

"Want one?" she asks.

"Sure." We walk in silence, as the tower looms larger.

"Why do you still love me?" she blurts.

I take a few more steps, trying to process, failing. "I don't understand."

"When I didn't tell you that I loved you back. Why didn't you just give up; move on?"

"I have patience."

"Well, it must have hurt."

 _It ached, terribly. I don't want to think about it right now. Deflect._

"I have patience."

"But you couldn't have known – "she starts.

"Look, Mallie, what answer do you want?" _I'm tired of this line of questioning._

"I-"

"Do you want me to say that I hated you?" I accuse.

She shakes her head. "No."

"Do you want me to say that I thought of giving up?" _Control yourself, don't get angry._

"No!" she gasps.

"Good. I don't want to lie to you."

We walk in silence for a few minutes.

 _What the Hell, might as well tell the truth._ "I just wanted all of you."

"What? But we were already -"

Still staring at the tower, matching her pace, I interrupted her. "No, I said I wanted ALL of you. Not the little scraps you tossed me when you were lonely, or bored, or…or wanted someone to screw. "

 _Fuck, I shouldn't have said that. God only knows what'll set her off again._

To my surprise, she grabs my hand; squeezes it.

"I'm sorry."

I squeeze back, and we continue to the security gate in blessed silence.


	12. Home Suite Home

**Author's Note:** Just a little lead-in. There's some exciting BDSM action coming up (which I've tried my hardest to render in the most tasteful manner possible - again, reviews and critiques are appreciated), so stay tuned!

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I couldn't wait to get back. I started peeling off clothes as soon as the door closed. _That shower is calling my name. Don't worry – I'll be with you shortly!_

I notice Charon standing at the door, watching me strip. _Ah, shit._ "You, too. Do whatever you need to do to get clean. Your showers don't take long anyway." _Well, out of necessity. Ghoul skin – or what remains of it anyway – doesn't react to warm water all that well._

He walks into the bathroom, out of sight. "I will inform you when I am finished."

Okie dokey then.

I busy myself with our packs while he's occupied. It doesn't take long before I hear him pad out, barefoot.

"Your turn."

He's already dressed, in a shirt and cargo pants. _Wait a second…I've never seen him naked._ Whenever we did the deed, he'd always stayed at least partially clothed, even if I were stark naked. As if… _as if he were ashamed of himself._

 _Sigh. I don't need this._ I don't want to make him uncomfortable right now – it'd get... _difficult_. We've both had enough of that shit for one day.

Instead, I say, "You can watch me shower if you want."

"I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

 _Charon_

 _She's looking at me funny._

She looks like she's gonna say something, then changes her mind, asks me if I want to watch her in the shower. I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else.

I follow her in, watch her turn on the water. Watching the droplets hit her skin, bounce off, roll off – the look on her face as she savors a luxury that I've long had to sacrifice, so I can make my remaining skin last as long as possible.

She takes the soap, lathers her hair – shampoo is scarce now, we make do with what we have – and massages her scalp.

 _I'd do anything to have skin again, to be able to get in there with her, to feel her in the warm water against me._

Why do I torture myself like this?

She rinses her hair, and starts to lather her body – taking a lot longer than she needs to. She fondles her breasts, closing her eyes and moaning as she pinches her nipples. _She can't help but tease me, especially when she knows I can't touch her until she says so._

Her hands slide seductively down her taut stomach, over her thighs, and – _ah, fuck, I'm so hard it's painful –_ she slides a slick, soapy hand in between her legs, and starts to stroke, almost lazily.

I must have said something, or moved. "No, I'm not ready for you yet."

 _You are a cruel, heartless bitch. God, I love you._

She turns around, soaps her legs, and as they rinse, she kneads her ass with both hands.

Ducking her head one last time under the spray, she turns the water off. She gathers her hair into a rough ponytail, and wrings out the excess water.

"Do you want what I promised you?"

"Yes."

"You remember our agreement."

I recite from memory. "Once you give the order, you are mine to command. If you are uncomfortable with what I am doing, you will explicitly order me to stop. No gags, no binding, unless you instruct me to do so."

 _She didn't do this every time – just the ones that had the potential to get out of control. I don't want to hurt her. She has to be able to tell me when I'm going too far._

She nods, meets my eyes.

"Take me. I'm yours."


	13. Harsh Discipline

**Author's Note:** Smut imminent! Don't say I didn't warn you.

Critiques and reviews appreciated!

Also, many thanks to Cobalt blue Amoeba for the reviews - reviews are the writer's fuel, folks! If you want more of the good stuff, make me feel appreciated!

* * *

 _Maleficent_

After I give the order, he stands there and smiles, broadly.

 _This is strange._ Usually, he can't help but attack me as soon as the order passes my lips.

"Get out of the tub."

I comply, stepping out and onto the rough bathmat.

"Turn around."

Heart pounding, I do as he says.

"Bend over and grab the tub."

Ah, this position is familiar. I bend over, lifting my ass into the air. I tremble in anticipation, expecting him to drop his pants and –

WHACK!

 _HE SMACKED MY WET ASS!_

"Ahhh!" I yelp, in surprise.

"So," he says, completely calm, "You think a bullet to the ass is funny?"

 _Ah, shit, I forgot about that._

"Yes."

WHACK! _Same side, overlapping a little._

I hiss through my teeth.

"Do you still think it's funny?"

 _I'm a stubborn little bitch. It takes more than a couple of slaps to intimidate me._

"Yes."

WHACK!

"Oh!" _On the left side now._

"Let's even that out a little. I doubt you've changed your mind. Have you?"

Ever the obstinate fool, I shake my head vigorously.

WHACK!

"Oh!"

 _I can't hold out too much longer. It's Niagara Falls down there._

"Go to the bed."

Ass smarting, I straighten up, turn, and stride proudly to the bed. _You've had your fun, fuck me already._

Instead of ordering me down on the bed, he sits on the edge and curls a finger, beckoning me to him. I approach, and he snatches me by the hips, forcing me down onto his lap, face-down, ass up. _You've got to be kidding. He's not going to -_

"Now, I'm gonna paddle your ass red, until you don't find it funny."

I squirm.

"Oh, no. You remember our agreement." _I could stop him if I wanted to_ _. If I wanted to._

WHACK! "Oh!" _He rubs a little, the sting dissipates._

Eight smacks later, and he gets his desired result.

"Do you still think it's funny?"

"No!"

"Are you sorry for laughing at me?"

"Yes!"

He helps me to my feet, and stands.

"On your knees on the bed."

"But it-"

"DO IT."

* * *

 _Charon_

 _If only her enemies could see her now._ On her hands and knees, ass red as a beet. Taking orders from her pet ghoul mercenary.

…and so wet, she's practically dripping.

 _I'll only tease her a little this time._

I take two fingers, and gently slide them inside of her. She moans, and I pump them a few times, as far in as I can go. _In, out, in, out, in, out._ When I slide my fingers out, she whimpers – until I reach under her and graze her waiting, swollen clit.

I ease my slick fingers back and forth, back and forth, then stop. Do you want more?"

"Yes!"

I slide them a little faster, waiting until I can tell she's just about to come, and then I stop.

"Oh, why?" she asks, breathless.

I let her sit there, on the edge of the bed, trembling, while I unbutton my pants. I enter her slowly, methodically, savoring the view, my ruined skin against her soft red flush. I rub her ass cheeks as I find a leisurely rhythm, and squeeze them until she cries out.

 _Poor baby. Shouldn't have been so defiant. No one's fault but your own._

Almost there – stop.

I feel a strange compulsion come over me. _I want to see her eyes._

"Roll over." I step back, tear off my shirt, kick my trousers off to the side.

She rolls onto her back, hissing as she lowers her back end onto the bed.

I settle between her legs, and gently, delicately ease inside of her. Her head tilts back, exposing her soft white throat. I lean down onto my elbows, pressing my naked chest against her. The sensation sent shivers through her body, her hands exploring my back – the rough edges, the leathery pieces of my remaining hide – and I whisper into her ear, "I love you, Mallie."

She moaned, long and low, gripped the back of my neck; me thrusting slowly, almost lazily, deep inside her. She wrapped her legs around me, pulling me in deeper, closer. "Oh Charon," she whispered, meeting my eyes, "I love you too."

We succumbed to instinct then, limbs entwined, hips thrusting towards one another desperately, rutting like animals, seeking nothing but pure release. She begged for more, faster, deeper. As she came, she took me with her, an explosion in my loins, spreading, blinding me in its purifying light.


	14. Trouble in Paradise

_Maleficent_

I lay face-down on the bed, head turned towards him, ass smarting.

Every now and then, he absently caresses my back, dragging calloused fingers over my weary flesh.

He sat, back against the wall, bare-chested, lazily dragging on a stale cigarette. He'd retrieved his pants and quickly climbed into them. _He'd found the courage to strip in the moment, but God forbid he remain unclothed to relax with me on the bed._ I roll my eyes.

We'd discovered something important, though – our romantic rendezvous without some article of clothing would be rare, since his skin (or what passed for it), chafed mine something awful. We never noticed it before, most times we coupled, I was bent over something, or we had our clothes only partially removed. I never realized how little we'd actually touched one another, until now. No wonder my insides ached; thank goodness for natural lubrication…

My body sang a litany of complaints, all of which begged for my attention, all of which I savored. _Battle scars._ "My ass is sore. I won't be able to sit comfortably for days."

He snorted. "Serves you right."

"I won't make fun of you next time, promise. I had no idea your ego was so fragile."

He tapped my aching ass, firmly. _Ouch!_

"Okay, okay!"

I must have dozed off; when I woke, he wasn't beside me, but the balcony door was open.

I find him leaned up against a column, smoking, staring at the stars.

"Put some clothes on, it's freezing out here!" he admonishes me.

"Maybe for you. I don't mind at all." _What is it – 60 degrees? Sheesh._

He gives me "the look" – _fine._ I shrug, retreat into the suite and locate some clean clothing. I tote it out onto the balcony and dress in front of him. "Better?"

He grunts, a curt nod.

"Charon, what's wrong?"

I watch the muscles in his jaw flex, his eyes close. "I hurt you."

Oh, _that's why he wanted me dressed_. Not because it was cold, but because he didn't want to see what his skin did to mine. My chest was was red, chafed in places – some places had scratched and drawn blood, although those were small, and bothered me less than my ass, frankly.

"You couldn't have known." I couldn't have, either.

"If you wish to punish me, I'll understand."

I gape at him. _Is he serious?_ "I'll be fine. Really. It's okay."

I squat next to him, eye-to-eye. " I thought I told you I'd never punish you again."

He sighs, and pats the floor next to him. When I shake my head, _nope, still a bit too tender_ , he smirks. He offers me a cigarette, and I take it.

We stare at the stars together.

* * *

 _Charon_

There aren't any words for what I felt, when I saw her chest, afterward.

Anguish and shame come close.

I have cleaned and treated her wounds since we've traveled together, but these – little scratches, some smeared blood – affect me the most.

I hurt her. I caused them.

It's no secret that I'm ashamed of my condition. I was both surprised and disgusted that she'd ever want to be intimate with me. I just focus on how it feels, not how I look. It would be too painful any other way.

I wish she would punish me.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I slept like a baby on Med-X. Dead to the world.

I'm emotionally burned out right now. I can't take much more of this.

I find myself longing for when things were easier. For when I didn't think about anyone but myself. I can't go back, _can't go back_ …

When I finally went to bed the night before, I was driven away. He didn't tell me to go; the pouting, the brooding, the uncomfortable silences – punctuated with his pained expressions – I couldn't take it anymore. I let him wallow in his own pain, he seemed all too eager. _I've gotten too soft._ "Whatever it is, out with it, or deal with it."

"I want you to punish me."

 _Not this again._ "Oh, for fuck's sake. We've went over this."

"I'm serious."

I roll my eyes. "Don't tell me you're still bellyaching about scratching me."

 _Silence. Looks like he decided to take me literally._ I suppose it didn't help that I refused chems to dull the pain or speed healing. My ass is still sore, and I want to enjoy it while it lasts.

"Fine. Since you're intent on me breaking my promise to you, what do you think would be a proper punishment?"

"My previous employers would utilize the weather or privation." _Great, no specifics._

"Elaborate."

"Having me stand out in the cold, no food or water, forced exercise, et cetera."

 _Fuck, that's brutal. No, no, and no._

I sigh. "We'll be staying for two more nights, then moving on. Since you hurt me by touching me, you're not allowed to touch me until we leave."

The look on his face made me wish I'd told him to stand out on the balcony all night naked instead. I held up a hand. "You wanted a punishment. At least it has something to do with…what you thought you did."

"I'm going downstairs to eat in the café. You're more than welcome to join me." He shakes his head.

"Right then. See you when I get back. And make sure to eat something."

* * *

Who's in the café, but my old friend, Mister Burke. He's the only one aside from Dashwood in Tenpenny Tower that doesn't appear to be the least bit disgusted by Charon's presence, which is funny, knowing how Charon thinks about him and all.

"Is this seat taken?" He asks, sliding into it after I flash an assenting palm.

"Your… _companion_ isn't joining you today?"

"No, he's – resting."

"It's nice to see you taking time for leisure." We each order a drink, then he leans across the table, conspiratorially. "Did you hear about what happened at Evergreen Mills? A generous soul decided to cleanse the foundry of the raiders and freed their captives."

"You don't say."

"I would like to…thank the _person_ that made the wasteland a better place by…disposing of the unclean." He reaches over, caresses my forearm lightly with his index finger. I clench my teeth. _Oh, not this, not now._

"If I find that _person…_ I'll let her know."

"Please inform her that it's a…standing invitation." He smiles, stands, picks up his Nuka-Cola. "I'll see you around, Maleficent." He curls his tongue around my name, savoring every syllable. Then he turns, leisurely strolling to the penthouse elevator.

 _I could follow him. Meet him up in his suite for a repeat performance. What could it hurt?_

No, not what. _Who._

Goddammit, Charon…

 _It'd be nice to be with someone who doesn't twist a knife in your gut. No strings, no obligations._

It would only take an hour or two. He can't touch me right now anyway. _He'd never know…_

No. The bruises would be impossible to hide. He'd know.

 _Just wonderful. Not two days after a declaration of love, and I'm contemplating sleeping with another man._

Redemption isn't as easy as I was led to believe, and I wasn't led to believe that it's easy.

I need a drink.

* * *

Left or right; left or right…

I stand outside the elevator, swaying gently. _What the fuck time is it?_ I glance at my Pip-Boy. "Aww, fuck, eleven o'clock. And I'm already toasted." I stopped by the bar for a nip, and wound up soused. Story of my life.

 _So, what will it be? Stability or no strings attached?_

All right, girl. One foot in front of the other. Let's go.

Absently, I put my hand to my throat, remembering _being slammed up against the wall, his hands on my throat._

No, no…not this.

 _Smooth hands, the hands of a negotiator, not a fighter._

STOP.

 _He slaps me, pulls my hair. Calls me names. Uses me, and I use him right back._

NO! My body and my brain fight for dominance.

Reaching the end of the hallway, I turn left, and – a door creaks.

"Mallie?"

 _Thank God, he's not looking out the door, only talking out the crack._

"Yeah, it's me."

"You sound drunk." _You sound accusatory._

"If I sound drunk, it's because I am." _Yeah, drunk at 11am. What are you gonna do about it?_

 _An irritated sigh._ "Come in and sleep it off."

"Don't tell me what to do." I counter, weakly. Feeling incredibly guilty, I turn right, push the door open, close it and lock it behind me. _Great. Well, I may have made the wrong choice, but at least I didn't go through with it._

The guilt will eat me alive, but I won't tell him.

 _If I ever need to bump off Mister Burke, though, just mentioning to Charon that he made a pass at me would take care of it…_

I suppose he was right not to trust him.

I flop on the bed and stare at the ceiling. Charon is standing by the door to the balcony, stone-faced, still.

 _Let him be pissed off at me, I don't care._

But I do.

* * *

 _Charon_

Coming back here was a bad idea.

She went out for breakfast, and wound up drunk instead. I know I shouldn't be surprised, but it pisses me off just the same.

Something must've happened. She seemed fine – well, a little pissed at me – when she left. I shouldn't have let her go down there on her own.

This punishment is torture. Worse than standing in the cold. Worse than being forced to do push-ups until I couldn't do any more. Worse than being starved for a week straight.

But I asked for it. It's what I deserve. I hurt her.

I stand, just like I did in the Ninth Circle. It'll be easier this way. We'll sleep in shifts, so I don't risk touching her. I can't disobey her orders, even if I wanted to.

 _Two more nights like this._

"You don't have to stand there. You can read, smoke, listen to the radio, whatever." She slurs. "Do somethin'. Makes me feel even worse, you just standin' there."

I select a book from the bookshelf. _Dante's Inferno._ I suppose it'll kill some time.

I sit at the desk, and begin to read.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I slept it off, and the hangover wasn't as bad as I thought I would be.

When I woke up, the sun was setting. I doubt I'll ever have a regular sleep schedule. Charon was fiddling with his shotgun – probably cleaning it, for the umpteenth time – I can hear soft _clinks_ and _clacks_ from the general direction of the workbench.

Then the guilt set in. The realization that if he hadn't opened the door then, I would have succumbed to temptation, knocked on Mister Burke's door, and betrayed the only person in the world who loved me. _I'm such a heartless piece of shit._

I plunge my face into the pillow, and scream into it.

The fiddling noises stop. "Are you okay? Is there anything I can get you?" he asks.

"Yes. Water. Please. My head hurts."

I hear him cross the room to the packs, dig around for a brief moment. When he hands me the bottle, my finger brushes his, and he jerks back. _Orders. Reflex._

"It's okay. I touched you – you didn't touch me."

He steps back, watching me drink.

When I finish, I cap the bottle and set it on the nightstand. "What are we gonna do with each other? Both of us are fucked up." I rub my temple.

"If we're both fucked up, maybe we belong together." _Good point._

I smile at him. "Gimme my shotgun. I wanna clean it myself for once."

* * *

We spend the evening in our respective corners, consumed with weapon maintenance. Around one o'clock in the morning, we split a bottle of wine while we sit and read. _Look at us…civilized monsters. Bathe in blood by day, drink wine and read fine literature by night._ Well, not fine literature, exactly. 'The Fairy Tales of the Brothers Grimm.' Yep – deep thoughts, right there. Witches, talking animals, heroic princes.

I snort. _There are no heroes anymore. Maybe there were never any at all._

"Woe to you, wicked souls!" Charon shouts. I jump in surprise.

"Give up the thought of Heaven!

I come to ferry you across,

Into eternal dark on the opposite side,

Into fire and ice!"

"We're a poet now, are we?" I ask.

He points at me.

"And you there - Leave this place,

You living soul – stand clear of these who are dead!"

"What on Earth are you reading?" He holds up the book and I read the spine. _Dante's Inferno._ "Oh, yes – I remember! Charon is the ferryman to Hell."

He smiles.

I smile back. "How...fitting."

* * *

"If you want to sleep, I'll clear off the bed."

I get a noncommittal grunt in reply.

"Last chance. Going once, going twice…"

He lifts his head up, eyebrow raised. Slowly shakes his head.

"Suit yourself. I'm feeling tired; I'm gonna take a nap. If you feel tired, I guess you can grab a bedroll and sack out on the floor."

A grunt.

 _A man of few words all the sudden._ I suppose the less he interacts with me, the less it hurts not being able to touch me. To be honest, he doesn't touch me all that much already, outside of sleeping or well… _extracurricular activities._ He's pretty reserved – he had to learn casual touching from me, and we all know what a great example of humanity I've turned out to be.

I yawn, flip the covers over me, and snuggle my head into a pillow.

"'Night, Charon."

"Good night."

* * *

 _Charon_

I watch her sleep.

I want to touch her hair, but – orders.

I try to get back into my book, but my mind keeps wandering.

 _What happened?_

She can be pretty volatile, but shit like this doesn't just come out of nowhere. There has to be a cause. _She'll probably whip it out and throw it in my face when I least expect it._ Maybe she'll surprise me and tell it to me straight, although, I doubt it. Information is still a valuable commodity, as it was pre-War.

I consider and discard a few possibilities – Dashwood talking about how intelligent ghouls can go feral, that Wellington bitch hassling her about bringing me in, the security guard (Gomez, Gustav, whatever the fuck his name is) trying to get her to do more of his dirty work – before I settle on what I usually think about when we're here: Mister Burke.

I don't know what he said to make her wanna get plastered, but I'm gonna find out.

* * *

At about 2:30 in the morning, I slip out the door and into the Penthouse lobby. She told me that it wasn't a good idea to go wandering around alone in Tenpenny, but she never ordered me to stay put in the suite. Furthermore – I'm not wandering. I know exactly where I'm going.

I knock on Mister Burke's door, three solid raps.

I'm surprised when he answers it almost immediately, with a smile, tie loosened. When he sees that it's me – I notice he looks up, he was expecting someone significantly shorter – his smile falters and settles into a smirk.

"Why, good evening, Charon – I wasn't expecting you."

"Oh? And who were you expecting?"

"A…colleague of mine. We proposed a…business arrangement."

 _I hate this asshole. I was made for combat, not conversation. His bullshit makes my head spin. I'll get right to the point._

"Mallie showed up drunk this morning. Have any idea why?" I asked.

"Why, no. When I saw her at the café, she was quite sober. Or, at least, she appeared to be."

He opened the door, stepped out into the lobby.

"You'll excuse me if I don't invite you in. I didn't have time to…straighten up." He added, politely.

"Yeah, and there aren't any security guards in there."

He nodded, smiled. "Something like that."

 _Let's get it over with._ "What did you say to her?"

"We were simply discussing current events. Evergreen Mills. So wonderful to have a purifying influence in the wasteland, to cleanse it of…filth."

 _Holy shit, this guy is creepy._ "And?"

"I expressed my desire to thank the individual responsible…personally."

 _It took all the control I had not to rip his head off. Well – plus I had orders not to harm anyone at Tenpenny unless they threatened me first._

"Stay away from her." I snarled.

"And may I ask why she didn't come here herself to tell me this?"

I glare at him.

"Ah. She didn't. You took it upon yourself." He chuckled. "Like a jealous boyfriend."

I clench my teeth; say nothing.

His voice, deep and melodic. "I'll tell you what - let's agree to forget this little chat, shall we? If she wants me to leave her alone, then she's quite capable of informing me herself."

I stood, fuming.

"Good night, Charon. Always nice to...catch up with you. "

He reaches for the door handle, and I block the door with my arm.

"I could kill you right now." _Grab a weapon. Give me an excuse._

"I'm sure you could. But you won't – not without her say-so."

I lower my arm, and watch him open the door, walk into his suite, then close it with a dull _click_.

* * *

I return to our suite.

I understand why his suggestion could have made her uncomfortable, but why would she go and get drunk? That makes no sense! Unless…no. No, she couldn't have been considering it. It hadn't been but two days since…

I will ask her. I MUST KNOW.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The quote from Dante's Inferno comes from the Pinsky translation of course, Canto III.


	15. A Moment of Truth

_Maleficent_

When I wake up in the wee hours of the morning, he's standing on the balcony. He must've been chain-smoking for hours – cigarette butts litter the ground.

"All right – one day is enough. I relent."

He glances at me, a half-smile on his face. He turns back to stare at the horizon.

"It hurt me as much as it hurt you." I pause, gathering my thoughts. "I don't want to punish you again. Don't ask me to."

"As you wish."

 _Great, what's happened now? Mr. Robot returns._ I wait a minute, staring at his back, trying to think of what I should say next. I want to reach out, touch his arm, but I don't know what kind of reaction I'll get. I turn to go back inside.

"I spoke to Mister Burke."

I freeze, my hand gripping the door handle. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." _His answer is clipped. He's pissed._

"What do you guys have to talk about? Become bosom buddies all the sudden?"

"No. He told me he talked to you yesterday." He's stating a fact, not asking a question.

"He did." _Uh oh._

"You got drunk after he talked to you."

"I did." _You don't want to go here._

"He tried to get you to go to his suite. To sleep with him." _There it is, can't take it back now._

"No, he – "

"Mallie, the least you can do is look me in the eye when you lie to me."

 _Ouch._ I turn to face him.

"I didn't go." I mumble, feebly. _Fuck, that was pathetic._

"You were thinking about it."

"No, I –"

"YES YOU WERE!" he bellows. "I can tell when you lie to me."

 _God, kill me right now. Please, just let me die. I know I never believed in you before, but –_

 _"_ I didn't go." I repeat, eyes downcast.

"No, you didn't. Only because I heard you in the hall."

I clench my teeth.

"Why? Not two days after – "

"STOP, just stop!" _I'm not taking this lying down_. "You're always so fucking DISTANT – "

"Don't change the subject," he snarls, angrily. "We're not talkin' about ME, we're talkin' about YOU."

 _He knows me too well._

"What were you thinking?" he asks, almost in a whisper.

The words flood out of me, even as I try to stop them. "I was thinking – I was thinking that I was tired of the pain, the guilt. For a second I thought…I thought I could go back to the way it was, no strings attached, no obligations…"

"The guilt?"

"For buying you, then using you. You know how it looks." I can feel tears start to obscure my vision. "For hurting you. Punishing you." _It doesn't matter if you asked me to. I broke my promise._

His arms envelop me. He strokes my hair.

"I want to trust you." He rasps.

"I'm so, so sorry." _I'm a pathetic mess._

"I know."

We stand on the balcony for a few minutes, in each other's arms.

"You're cold." I tell him.

"I'm always cold."

"Come inside and warm up. That's an order."

He smiles. "As you wish."


	16. The Gift

_Charon_

I yelled at her, raged at her.

She's the only woman I ever really loved. I'll be damned if I'm not gonna fight for her. I'm not just gonna roll over and give her up. Especially to a smug fucker like Burke.

We lay on the bed, under the sheets. _The warmth is delicious, pure luxury._ She traces circles on my hand, and whispers, "I'll let you kill him, if you want."

 _Oh, how I'd love to. But not like this._ "No."

I can hear The Darkness in her voice. "I can kill him for you. Carve him up. Make him scream."

 _Ah, Jesus. It never goes away._ "No."

"But I want to. I want to kill something. I want to make something suffer. I want to make something…bleed." I cringe at the coldness in her voice.

"Mallie, this place is the only place we have. If we killed him…we'd have nowhere to call our own." This seems to satisfy her.

 _She must be getting restless. Even the raider a few days ago isn't enough to last._

"I wanna find one of those Enclave fucks. Make them pay for Dad."

 _No complaints here._

* * *

"Okay, I wanna give you your present!" Mallie is practically jumping, she's so excited.

Shaking my head, I ask "What present?"

"Well, remember when I asked you when your birthday was?" _Yes._ "Well…you said you didn't remember. So…I decided to get you a birthday present. We can make your birthday whatever day you want!"

She puzzles me. So serious one minute, then playful – almost like a little girl – the next.

She fiddles with the safe, wiggles her butt playfully.

The door creaks open, and she hands me a small silver cylinder, about two and a half inches long, and less than an inch in diameter.

"I got it from Doc Hoff. It's Commonwealth tech." I turn it over in my hands. _What the Hell?_

"Watch!" She fingers it, and it slides open, with a soft _hiss_ , revealing a small opening.

"It's an implant."

 _WHAT?!_

She takes a piece of paper out of the safe – _my contract._ She folds it; rolls it up, tightly.

 _Oh, you've GOT to be kidding._

She takes the contract, stuffs it in the implant – it's a tight fit, but it's adequate. She closes it.

"It's water-tight, air-tight. It'll keep it safe. No worrying about someone stealing it!"

Frankly, I'm stunned _._

"So…what do you think?" She asks.

 _I think you're absolutely batshit crazy. And beautiful. And a genius._

"It's…amazing. But…where are you going to put it? How?" _there's a lot of questions here, and I don't like where this is going._

She places a hand over her left breast. "I want it here, over my heart." She smiles. Her face darkens. "But…we'll have to put it in."

"Wait – why can't we get a doctor to do it?" I ask, knowing perfectly well why we can't.

"Because then they'll _know._ About the contract."

* * *

So that's how I wound up on the floor, with a combat knife pointed at her.

"You're sure you want me to do this." I say.

"Yes. Absolutely sure," Her voice dulled by Med-X.

Medical supplies lay next to her. "You'll have to hold me down while you cut."

If I had skin, I'd be sheet-white right now.

"I'll put the rag between my teeth. Cut as quick as you can, then hit me with another Med-X."

"Tell me again why I can't put you all the way out?" _Fuck's sake. I can't believe I'm doing this._

"Because I know what I'm doing, dumbass - you don't."

The look on my face must not have been very encouraging.

"Look, it's gonna be okay. If you cut anything vital, we can fix it up quick." She said, indicating the stimpak. "Now, what do you do, after you've made the cut?" she asks.

"I push in the implant, hold it together, then hit it with a stimpak."

"Right." _Well, she's the one who studied medicine from her dad, not me. I was programmed for combat medicine, stabilizing people in the field, nothing like this._ "Are you ready?" she asks.

I inhale deeply. "As ready as I'll ever be."

"Then let's get this show on the road." She jams the rag between her teeth, balls her hands into tight fists at her sides.

Straddling her, I push her down into the floor with my left forearm and begin cutting under her breast, quickly and carefully. Blood runs in rivulets down her ribs, toward her armpit.

Despite the Med-X, she screams into the rag, a dreadful sound. I look up at her face _–_ she's sweating, pale, eyes squeezed shut tightly. Finished, I grab another Med-X and administer it, close to the cut. _Half done._

"Ready for the implant?" Stoned from the Med-X, she nods her head, and gently as I can, pushing her hard into the floor, I ease it into her.

Her body bucks from the pain, and when I get the implant situated, I press the wound shut, and hit her with a stimpak. I watch the flesh knit up, a new scar – small, hidden in the crease of her breast – appears. She pulls her arms free, tosses the rag away and breathes heavily, sweat beaded on her forehead. She has the far-away, heavy-lidded look of a junkie who just got her fix.

"Rest. I'll clean you up while you sleep."

Nodding lazily, her eyes close.

* * *

"MotherFUCK, that itches!" She rubs her new scar.

She smiled at me. "Good job."

"Thanks – I think."

"Sorry about that, big guy. It was the only way. I know you don't like cutting on people as much as I do."

"I just don't like cutting on you. I've cut on plenty of people."

 _An awkward silence. Don't ask, please don't ask._

She looks into my eyes, takes my hand, places it on her breast, and smiles. "I'm yours now."

I know it's not a command, but I get excited anyway. "Any chance of me getting another birthday present?"

She smirks. "What exactly do you have in mind?" as I lower my lips to her neck.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

 _FUCK that hurt._

I thought it would hurt, but not like that. I press firmly on my breast, feeling for the implant. _I guess security is worth a little pain._

I check my Pip-Boy. It's early afternoon – we'll have to get our packs ready, if we still plan on leaving tomorrow. Personally, I'd like to leave this little Mister Burke fiasco behind us. Charon still loves me, but God only knows if he'll ever be able to trust me again – well, if he ever did, anyway.

We'll head northeast, to Vault 106. I haven't checked it out yet, and I'd like to rummage around, scavenge for supplies a bit.

Maybe if I keep looking, I'll find what I need.


	17. Screaming Meemies

_Charon_

"What the fuck is that smell?" Even though the vault was open, there's a vaguely chemical, antiseptic smell to the air.

"It's vault smell. 101 smelled kinda like this."

 _But Vault 101 was not open._ "This place is not safe."

"No place is safe to you, Charon."

 _Good point._ But there's still something wrong here. The entrance is littered with debris – papers, boxes, bottles – and the metal walls are rusted. This place has been open for a while. Something's not right.

We haven't even seen anyone yet.

Our footsteps echo, making me more cautious. If there's anyone in here, they'll hear us from a mile away. We turn left, walk down some stairs. Mallie gasps. "Daddy?" I look around – there's nobody here. Nothing. Just junk. She reaches out, then stops, a puzzled look on her face.

"I must be tired." She shakes her head.

"What's wrong?"

"I just thought…nevermind."

The room proves to be a dead end. We come back the way we came, taking the stairs downward in the other direction.

"Ah – there you are!" A crazed man in a vault suit rushes at us, and before Mallie can unholster her weapon, I fire. He drops to the ground, and she searches him – nothing but a lead pipe.

"He's a vault dweller, definitely. Look how pale he is." She points at his face. "I was sunburnt the first day after I walked out of the vault."

My head is on a swivel – there could be more of these guys.

At the next junction, we were attacked again – two came at us this time. No guns – strange.

"It looks like they don't have anything aside from their weapons and the clothes on their backs. Odd. And they don't even ask who we are, they just attack us on sight." She looked thoughtful.

"What the fuck is going on in this place?" I ask, as we start down a long corridor.

"Charon, I feel-" and she gasps, runs to the nearest door.

I follow, and watch her click the keys on a long-dead computer terminal.

She runs up to another one, then another; I glance at the screen – nothing.

I frown, as she continues to the room across the hall, and does the same. When she starts back into the hall, I grab her by the shoulders. "Mallie, what's wrong?" _Why do her eyes look like that?_ "Mallie – are you _HIGH_?"

Her pupils were dilated, big as saucers.

"Whu- what?"

All the sudden, she seems to snap out of it. "This place…this place was new!"

"Mallie, it hasn't changed."

"But…" her brow furrows.

"We should leave. Now."

"No. No, I wanna know what the fuck is going on here."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I'm seeing things.

I thought maybe it was being back in a vault, the stress – but no, it's something else.

We're attacked by crazy-ass vault dwellers. The wasteland would drive anyone crazy, but something's different. These people look strung-out, fucked up.

In another hallway, I see three women running towards us. I start to call out to them, but…they disappear. I put away my gun, and dig out my baseball bat. I don't want to wind up shooting myself in the foot if I start seeing things again.

I find a note, murmur the last sentence, "the walls just need somebody to love, too, man."

I turn to Charon. "Everyone in here was drugged. I'm being drugged."

"Then why don't I feel it?"

"You're a ghoul. Chems don't affect you like they do me."

I look around the room. "To affect you, they'd have to be in –" my eyes rest on an air vent, "- much higher concentrations." I point at the vent.

I decide to be all business for now. "Let's scavenge this place, and get the fuck out of here as soon as we can."

* * *

 _Charon_

We approach the door marked 'Science Lab' with trepidation.

What drove these poor bastards stark raving mad is probably behind that door.

How much of this can she take? She just now started getting better. What if whatever's coming through the vents fries whatever sense she's got left?

I've had employers that I suspected were brain-dead. Well, figuratively – they did stupid things, had me do stupid things, and got themselves dead.

Which most of them richly deserved. Some would say that Mallie deserves the same. I know she slaved and killed; cut people up to feed The Darkness inside her. If she died or went crazy, it'd probably make a lot of people happy. Poetic justice, wasteland style.

I'll follow orders as long as she gives them.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

In the Science Lab, we confirm what I suspected. The terminal reveals that psychoactive drugs were being released – correction, are STILL being released – through the air filtration system. "Let's keep exploring. My Pip-Boy says that there's not much left to this vault." I turn dials, oblivious to my own safety as I wander into a nearby room.

I look up and see Butch, Wally, and Paul.

I unsheathe my combat knife and plunge at them. "WHEN I KILL YOU, FUCKIN' STAY DEAD!"

* * *

 _Charon_

She runs into the room, screaming obscenities and stabbing at empty air with her combat knife.

I see the man in the lab coat a split second later and start firing. He's a tough one, for a vault dweller. Takes three to the chest before he drops.

I watch her dance with her knife for a few seconds, then I slowly approach. "Mallie-" _WHOA, Holy Shit!_ _She lunged at me!_ If I'd had a nose, I wouldn't have one now. I take a few steps back.

She widens her stance and expels a guttural scream, like an animal poised to attack.

"MALLIE, WAKE THE FUCK UP!" I bellow.

She shakes her head; her eyes clear. She searches the ground, murmurs "Where are they?"

"Hallucinations."

"Fuck. I hate this place."

In the cave, we find assorted ammunition, and a mini-nuke. _Great. Now she has ammo for that thing._

"Are you happy now? Let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I was on edge all the way back to the Living Quarters – probably why I took a wrong turn. Growing up in a vault, I have a knack for finding my way through them, or at least that's what I thought. _Fuck, I'm lost._

Charon probably picked up on it quicker than I did. I made the mistake of picking up a note and started reading silently:

"I dont know what happened, all of a sudden everyone just started acting strange. The Overseer told us to lock ourselves into our room and wait until security gets the riff raff under control so that's what I'm doing…."

I drop it on the floor. "Poor fuckers."

I consult my Pip-Boy. "Ah, shit. Took a wrong turn. Or three."

On our way out, I see a sign – 'Overseer' – and can't help but succumb to the curiosity to riffle through the office. There's bound to be some good shit in the Grand Poobah's office.

"Hey, look, another note." _Ah, Jesus._ "A nutty ass poem in a vault. Seems to be a theme."

We step in the Overseer's office, and - _Alphonse?!_ I close my eyes. _One, two, three, four, five._ When I open them, he's gone.

We don't find anything useful in the office. Just more terminal entries, a record of cruelty.

Who would know cruelty, if not me?

* * *

 _Charon_

I'm glad to be back outside. How people lived underground in those tin cans, I'll never know.

"Where are we headed now?" I ask. I glance over at Mallie's face, and I'm rewarded with a look that could only be described as "lost." _Ah, shit. She has no clue. No plan._

 _There she goes with that stupid wrist computer again._ Turning knobs, flicking dials. As if pre-war tech can give her direction, purpose.

"Let's find a place to spend the night. I'll be damned if I'm going back in there." She jerks her thumb back at the vault entrance. She lights a cigarette and studies her map.

"If I remember right, Megaton shouldn't be too far from here. If we hoof it, we should be able to get there by time it gets dark." I suggest.

She starts coughing, violently. _Was it something I said?_

Still trying to catch her breath, she wheezes, "Yeah, uh…we should avoid that area."

 _Hmm. Another place where she didn't play nice._ "Didn't make any friends there, huh?" I ask.

"Something like that."


	18. Stargazers

**_Author's Note:_** Smut ahead! Don't say I didn't warn you!

* * *

 _Maleficent_

We head west, towards the power substation, 58 I think. I don't wanna get too close to Paradise Falls, just in case Eulogy's got people looking for me.

I almost choked when he suggested Megaton. _He must not have paid attention to the news._ I can't hide it from him forever; he's bound to figure out that I annihilated almost fifty people at the behest of Mister Burke sooner or later.

I don't want to bring up Mister Burke right now. Bad idea. It's still too soon.

* * *

Inside the substation, there's a ladder on the wall.

"Think it can hold you?" I ask. It's a relevant question – the rungs are a little rusty. Not only is he a big guy, but he's broad-shouldered, and nothing but muscle. Who knows what he weighs.

"Only one way to find out."

We barricade the door before we head up. No use climbing up there if we're gonna leave the building open. Last thing I'd want is to catch a bullet or two in my ass on my way back down.

I clamber up, and he hands me the packs, one after the other. I figure that we'll eat and sleep up here. It's nice to be out in the open without having to worry about someone trying to shoot you or eat you.

We fish out our bedrolls, and prepare our makeshift beds for the night ahead – close, almost overlapping. I take my hair down, and we sit and watch the sunset without speaking, eating snack cakes and apples. I know, not the most nutritious dinner, but you only live once, right? Goes well with the coffin nails afterward.

The night is warmer than usual. I strip down to my skivvies, Charon goes bare-chested for once.

The moon is a sliver tonight. The black sky looms, stars brilliant points of light in the darkness.

As I snuggle up to his left side, he wraps his arm around me, resting his head on his other arm. He's cooler than I am, but still comfortable – otherwise, he'd start bundling up, or pull a sheet over us.

I rest my hand on his stomach, slowly rubbing.

Finally, I can't hold it in anymore. "I'm not a good person, Charon."

* * *

 _Charon_

I squeeze her in a half-hug, kiss the top of her head. "You can be."

"How are you so sure?"

"I just am." _If I can find you, after what I've done? Anything can happen._

"I've done so many terrible things."

"I have, too." _So many…too many._

"You were ordered to do them. You couldn't say no. I could have, and I didn't."

"Hush, now."

She blurted, "I blew up Megaton."

I stiffened, then relaxed. _Ah, so that's why we didn't head east._ "Who put you up to it?"

"The suite at Tenpenny was my payment." That told me all I needed to know. _Allistair Tenpenny's slimy, manipulative lapdog. I should have taken her up on her offer._

"I killed fifty people, Charon, pushed the button myself. I'm a monster."

I took a deep breath. _If it makes her feel better._ "They died in an instant. They did not suffer. I've made people suffer, Mallie. Looked into their eyes when they died. Pain so much, they broke. Couldn't bear it anymore."

 _Sometimes I saw their faces at night. I didn't dream often, but the ones I had were usually unpleasant._

"The worst one was – "

"You don't have to tell me." She said, quickly.

"Yes. Yes I do. You have to understand."

She fell silent. Waiting.

"See, this guy, this smoothskin, owed Ahzrukhal some money. A lot of money." _Or, at least he said he did. Made little difference at the time, and no difference now_. "He had me go fetch him, and drag him to an empty building, tie him up."

"He gave me…a hammer. Told me to work him over a little bit, not kill him. Not the head or neck. He was specific. He knew that I looked for loopholes in orders, so he looked for them before he even gave 'em."

 _The memory is like a tight knot in my gut._

"I did what he said. No choice. I went until I was ordered to stop." I paused. "The way the guy looked at me was…"

She squeezed me, reassuringly.

"-like I was a monster. He screamed…" I clenched my fist behind my head.

"I would have given anything to hit him in the head, put him out of his misery. " I closed my eyes, shook my head, slowly. "Ahzrukhal gave him a stimpak. Let him sit for an hour or two. Then it started all over again."

I feel her breath quicken.

"When Ahzrukhal got tired of the screaming, he gagged him." _His eyes were even worse, then. Deep brown wells of pure, unadulterated terror._

"I couldn't say no. I would've done anything to say no." I clench my teeth. "He was there for almost two days."

She gasps.

"When he died, he looked like – like a human bag of rocks. Bruises on top of bruises. Lumpy, where stimpaks healed his bones wrong, then I re-broke 'em." I could see him clearly in my mind's eye. "And you know the funny part? He never told us where the money was."

She squeezes me.

"I did it all for nothing."

She patted my stomach. "Hush now. Go to sleep."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I'm stunned.

When I hear his breathing slow - become deep, even, regular – I carefully sit up, cross my legs, and stare at the stars, thinking.

Every now and then, he'd stir in his sleep, but I never asked him what he dreamed about. I doubt he'd have told me if I'd asked. I have nightmares, and I wanna keep 'em to myself – I figured I'd extend him the same courtesy.

His pain sounded new, raw. It had opened a wound in him. He opened it for me. To make me feel better.

I think of when I met Ahzrukhal. "I point at something, and Charon hurts it." He'd said. I shivered.

The moonlight is dim, but I can watch him sleep. His chest rises and falls, his ruined face slack. _He is so much more deserving of compassion than me._

I wish there were some way I could thank him. _Well, there's one way. The only way I know._

I slowly remove my tank top and panties. I don't want to wake him up until it's absolutely necessary.

Carefully, I unbutton his pants and zip down the fly. He doesn't wear underwear – too restrictive, he says – so it's only a matter of reaching in and seizing my prize.

* * *

 _Charon_

I wake up, and she's straddling me.

I open my mouth to ask – well, it doesn't matter. She presses a smooth, soft finger to my lips, caresses my face.

She leans back, guiding me into her warm wetness with a practiced hand.

Her hips tilt lazily back and forth, moving me inside of her, deep, deeper. Her muscles rhythmically massage my aching member, her thighs tighten, grip my sides.

I reach up, caress her taut stomach. I rest my left hand on her rocking hip; lift my right to massage under her breast, fingering the hard lump there. I am inside of her.

My hand slides down to her other hip, and I guide her – forward and back, forward and back – although, she needs no guide.

I watch her rock gently, a silhouette against the starry sky, as if the darkness itself had come alive and taken me to her bed.

The only sounds were the rustle of sheets and our heavy breathing, punctuated by wordless gasps.

She tilted forward, lowered her chest close to mine, hands to either side of my shoulders, bracing herself as I've done with her countless times. Her hair cascades over her shoulders, brushes my collarbone, silken strands caressing the hollow of my throat. The sensation of her skin against me, soft meeting rough; her delicate web of scars and my tattered flesh converging, hidden in the gloom, is almost too much to bear.

My hands travel downward, caress the soft curve of her buttocks, and squeeze, gently.

A low, tender moan, warm breath against my neck.

Her hips rock faster, the muscles inside of her pulsing, squeezing tighter and tighter.

She leaves a trail of wet kisses in the crook of my neck, and I grip her tight to me, as a soft cry of passion passes through my lips and escapes into the cool night air.

She strokes my face, whispers, "Hush now. Go to sleep."

I close my eyes and surrender myself to oblivion.


	19. A Close Shave

_Charon_

When I awoke shortly after sunrise, she was standing on the edge of the roof, facing the sun, stark naked – well, except for her wrist computer. She looks wild, untamed, free.

I suppress the urge to prostrate myself in front of her, like a tribal worshiping a force of nature.

I rise, pad over to her, and hug her from behind, nuzzling into her tousled mane. "Step back, before you fall and break a leg."

"Good morning to you, too." She drawls around her cigarette.

"…and what are you doin', standing here naked? Get some clothes on." I add.

"What are you – jealous?" she smirks.

"What if someone's out there?'"

She laughs. "Prude. There isn't anyone out here for miles. I'm sure the radscorpions are getting a terrific view, though. Maybe I should charge admission."

"HELLOOO UP THERE!" we both jump.

We look down, and not twenty yards away from the building is wastelander with a dog – probably a scavenger – waving at us.

I quickly retreat to put away the bedrolls. Wouldn't want to give him the wrong idea about us – word travels fast when taboos are broken, and Mallie's not exactly inconspicuous.

To my surprise, she makes no move to get dressed. She barks down at him, brazenly, hands on her hips. "Yeah - whaddaya want?"

 _That's my girl. Making friends everywhere she goes._

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I stand and watch the sun rise, naked as the day I was born.

I think of the irony of it all. That man lying there behind me – a mercenary, a killer – teaching me how to be tender, how to love.

As much as I crave freedom, it feels good to be wanted. Needed.

He hugs me from behind, then bitches about me being naked. _Someone's feeling possessive._

When the scavenger calls out, I'm not entirely surprised. It's not like we're on an island or anything – anyone can just waltz up here. I just didn't expect it. Deathclaws are known to hang around the area, so only the bravest tend to venture out here.

I holler back at him – "Yeah – whaddaya want?"

He stands there, staring at me, then averts his eyes with a jerk of his head. "Uh…sorry! Just thought you might like to trade."

I snicker. _The world died, but modesty still lives._ In the vault, we lived in close quarters – try as we might, it was impossible to not have seen almost everyone in there naked, at least once. Sure, they preached modesty, but practicality won out.

I turn my head over my shoulder. "Charon, we need anything?"

"Shotgun shells would be nice. And cigarettes – you're going through them pretty quick." He replies.

I yell down – "Sit tight – we'll be down in a few!"

I toss my cigarette butt, turn, dig through my pile of clothes, and dress – not too quickly, though. It's not like the scavenger's gonna turn into a pumpkin or anything.

After I get my armor situated, I start to do my hair. It's a little bit more awkward this way, but at least I'm not yanking on my bun when I'm trying to put the shit on. _Wait…I wonder if?_

"Wanna help me with my hair?" I ask him.

"Sure."

He takes the tie out, fluffs up my hair, and buries his face in it. "There, perfect."

I laugh. "C'mon, stop fucking around. He's waiting on us."

He sighs, shrugs. "Worth a shot."

In a few minutes, I have a nice, neat, tight bun at the nape of my neck. I reach back and touch it. "It's not fair, really."

"What isn't fair?"

"I'm the one with all the hair, and you do this better than I do. Maybe you missed your calling."

He snorts. "I've watched you put up your hair every day for months."

"And take it down."

He flashes a lecherous grin. "That's the best part."

* * *

I go down the ladder first, he hands me the packs, and follows.

"Be quiet, don't say a word. Just stand there." I instruct.

"I know how to do my job."

"Well, like it or not, you're big and scary. I don't want you freaking him out. He might have something we need." _Plus, I don't want to have to kill him if he takes a shot at you._

A grunt, and a nod.

"Now help me get this shit away from the door."

* * *

 _Charon_

We get our shotgun shells and cigarettes. It never fails to amuse me when I see people's eyes get big as saucers when they see me walking up behind her. I thought the kid was gonna piss his pants.

After the trader wandered off with his caps, she pulled a piece of paper from her pocket.

"Charon, have you ever seen trees? Ones with leaves on 'em?"

"Not outside of pictures." _Jesus, how old do you think I am?_

She hands me the paper. "Oasis? Sounds too good to be true."

"I found it on this guy, was raving about the Great One, or something. Dropped dead right in front of me." _Creepy._ "Wanna go out there and see if we can find it?" she asks.

"Sounds good to me."

"Let's head north, then. It's gonna take a little longer than it should. I'd like to take a wide berth around Paradise Falls."

"Don't have any friends left there, huh?" I ask.

"Yeah. Eulogy and I did not part on the best of terms. I was lucky I got out of there alive."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

As soon as I told Eulogy that I was quitting, he got real quiet. Then, all Hell broke loose. I had to use my only Stealth Boy and book it out of there. "Nice fellas, them slavers – gave me a lovely parting gift on the way out." I shift my armor and lift my shirt, indicating an ugly exit wound scar, a couple inches to the right of my navel. _I took that one for you, big guy._

I'm glad I had a stimpak ready to go, or I'd have died for sure. "Motherfucker had a .44 in his jacket, shot me when I turned to leave."

Charon glares at me, accusingly.

 _What the fuck is your problem now?_ "You got somethin' to say?"

"Yeah. How many people did you put the collar on?"

"I don't fuckin' know – I didn't count. I just took the caps." _Eulogy kept the books, not me._

He sighed and shook his head, and opened his mouth to say something.

"If I want your opinion, I'll ask you for it." I snapped.

"Understood."

"Let's stop arguing and get the fuck out of here. I don't need this shit." I stalk off, headed north.

* * *

 _Charon_

We start hoofing it north. Eventually, she couldn't help but bring up the past again.

"You know why I quit slaving, right?" she asked.

"You stopped after we…got to know one another." _Well, that's one way to put it._

"I stopped slaving because every time I mezzed somebody and started to put the collar on, I couldn't do it." She glanced over at me. "I looked at 'em, and I saw you."

 _Well, this changes things._

I take her hand. "You can't change what you did."

"I know. But I fuckin' hate it when you look at me like that."

* * *

"There's two patrolling out there. Odd. There's usually more."

She fiddles with her Pip-Boy, probably looking for the map. "It says here, Mass Relay Station."

"How do you want to do this?" I ask.

"I was thinking, we could hit 'em like at Evergreen Mills. Snipe a couple, then run inside and take care of business. Looks like it might be a good place to hole up tonight." _Sounds like a plan._

She was digging in her pack when the world exploded, and everything went dark.

* * *

I wake up sitting against a rock, staring at a pool of blood in my lap. I try to get up and _ah, shit, can't feel my legs._ No – no I can feel them. They're just really, really heavy.

I hear the chatter of an assault rifle, far away. _Gotta protect Mallie!_

Wait, that's…that's my blood. I look at the ground. _Soaked with it. Can't protect her if I'm fuckin' dead._

Shit, shit, shit. _I need to get to a stimpak, or I'm gonna fuckin' bleed to death._

I scan ground. _THERE!_

I lunge for it, and almost pass out again. _Can't do that. If I pass out now, I'm dead._

Got it, though. Thank God or nature for long arms.

I quickly start to strip my armor – ah, failed plates. A chest one, and one…right next to my groin. Ah, fuck, I don't need this right now. Of all the parts that could've got blown off…

I pull it away. _Phew!_ Close, but everything's still where it was this morning. _Well, the important stuff, anyway._

I jab the stimpak in, as close to the biggest wound as I can. _Fuck, I'm tired. Blood loss, probably._ Or, maybe not. Spilled blood looks like a lot more than it really is. My head swims. _Maybe a concussion._

I have to get to her. I drag myself by my arms, sending stabs of pain into my knitting flesh.

There! There she is. _She's alive!_ My arms give out, and I lie in the dust. I watch her stalk the last raider like a rabid deathclaw. Panicked, he runs, and she leaps on his back. There's a terrible scream, a shower of blood, and a chilling laugh that follows me into blackness.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Motherfucker!

It was a fuckin' grenade – there was another raider patrolling, and he found us before we could find him. Charon took the brunt of it, and when I saw him there, bleeding, I just… _snapped._

I unsheathed my combat knife, and the next thing I remember, I was covered in blood and bits of gore, laughing.

"Charon!" I search for him and spot him lying on the ground, near the rock we were hidden behind before this whole mess started. Panicked, I begin to run, and _fuck, what did I just trip over?_ A... An arm. Just lying there. I guess I did that.

Let's worry about that later.

When I make it to him, he's alive, but his pulse is thready. _Triage time._ I dump my pack, find a blood pack in the medical supplies, and carefully stick the needle in an exposed vein on his arm. I lift his eyelids, first one, then the other – _possible concussion._ He's lucky he's out cold – treating head injuries with stimpaks ain't fun if you're awake. I fish out a stimpak, jam it behind his ear, then find some irradiated water, soak a rag with it, and lay it on the large wound. We'll have to do this here, because there's no way I can move him. I'm strong, but he's way too heavy.

This might take a bit.

* * *

It was dark when he finally woke.

"Mallie?" he groans.

"Welcome to the land of the living." I smile.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. None of this blood is mine." I'd tried to mop off as much as I could, but I didn't have a mirror, so I know I missed some spots. "The grenade didn't even get me." I find the remainder of the irradiated water, and hand it to him. "Here. See if you can keep this down."

He drank deeply; finished the bottle. "It should've killed me."

"Well, you have armor, and it is a 200-year old grenade." I light a cigarette. "Save your strength. As soon as you're ready, we're going inside."

"We should probably wait until morning." he advises.

"If I want your opinion, I'll give it to you."

* * *

 _Charon_

I didn't expect to wake up again. I didn't expect to see her again. The first thing I saw was her eyes shining in the moonlight. Keeping watch over me.

 _Oof, I feel like shit._

The irradiated water made it better. I was feeling stronger already. In a few hours I'd be ready to go.

I rest my hand on her knee.

She's okay.

I close my eyes.

* * *

When I wake, she's waving her wrist computer around and poking at my wound.

"Would you stop that? That's fuckin' annoying."

"Does it hurt?" she asks.

"It aches a little – but that's it. By morning it should be good."

"I can put another stimpak in it." She suggests.

"Don't waste those!" I snap.

"They aren't wasted on you. Now shut the fuck up and get ready to move."

"As you command."

* * *

We approach the door, and she goes in first, low, me after her. _I've long stopped trying to insist that I go first. There's no changing her mind once she's made it up._

Three shotgun blasts later, and a raider is lying dead at her feet.

Out of the corner of my eye, I sense movement. "GET DOWN!"

A raider with a flamer rushes into the room, and I aim for his weapon. In a moment of panic, I think of her beautiful hair, singed off…

His weapon crippled, the raider tosses it and starts to run for the door, behind me. _You've GOT to be shittin' me._ I stick out my foot and trip him – which would have been comical under different circumstances. I grab the back of his shirt, haul him up, and slam him against the wall, hard.

"You were gonna burn my girl's hair off." I snarl.

He whimpers.

I look over at her, and she's smiling. The Darkness in me touches the Darkness in her.

I holster my weapon. Growling, I seize his head and slam it against the wall. Once, twice, three times. I drop him, and he falls to the floor with a muffled _thump_ and a clatter of armor.

I stand, staring at the wall. My rage slowly dissipates. _I could've lost her today._ My heart hammers in my chest. I drag the two bodies out the door and drop them, unceremoniously, into a ragged heap.

"Charon, let's go get the packs and get ready for bed."

I turn to face her, and she's taking down her hair, shakes it out; fluffs it.

She is the center of my world.

I rush over to her, place my hand on her face, guide her mouth to mine. I run my fingers through her silky hair.

Her soft moan was all the permission I needed. I press her up against the wall, both of us fumbling, desperate to remove the armor separating us. She unbuckles her pants, yanks them down, jerks a boot off, and kicks off one pants leg, briefly fighting with her underwear. I lift her, press her tightly against the wall, her legs wrapping around my waist, pants dangling from one leg. She wraps her strong arms around my neck, and I enter her, her soft, warm center enveloping me, tightening around me reflexively. Her cries are loud, deafening in the small room, and I growl like an animal in heat as I thrust into her over and over again.

I come explosively, with a guttural shout.

We stay pressed up against the wall for a few seconds, catching our breath.

"You're gonna wear me out, big guy."


	20. Worry Stone

_Maleficent_

Fuck, I'm sore. _I guess spontaneity has a price._

When he leaves to retrieve the packs, I dig out a stimpak from a pants pocket and stick it high up in my inner thigh. _I don't need him going off his rocker because he hurt me; not out here._

I don't use the whole thing – maybe a third. I learned this trick from a whore in Rivet City. When you like it rough, this kind of knowledge is invaluable. Of course, I had to pay for the privilege of her conversation, but I wanted someone to talk to. That I had to pay someone to do so wasn't lost on me.

It's lonely at the top.

We close and lock the door – and barricade it. Better safe than sorry. We'll only be here for three or four hours anyway – enough time to eat, get in a good nap and leave before anyone's the wiser. This place is reinforced, so it must be important to the raiders – I don't want us to overstay our welcome and wind up in another firefight as a result.

We eat, silently. I dig some food out of my pack, and he follows my lead. It's amazing how much we don't talk. I knew people in the vault that would rush to fill any silence – whether it was awkward or not. I liked to do that to Amata, purposefully giving one-word answers so she'd flap her lips like if she didn't say anything, the world would come down around her ears.

Now, the empty spaces lengthen – and are filled with comfort.

We sit on the bed, backs against the wall, his arm around my shoulder. Tobacco smoke floats above our heads, hangs in the still air briefly, before it dissipates.

"Charon?"

"Hmmm?"

"Is there a way to free you from your contract?" I ask. I've thought about this many times, just haven't asked him about it.

"Not that I'm aware of."

"If there was – would you want me to do it?" _A valid question. Freedom is scary. I should know._

He takes a few moments to gather his thoughts.

"Yes and no." he replies.

"What do you mean?" _Usually I'm the one with the confusing answers._

"Yes because…I have wanted to experience freedom."

"And no because…?"

"I never really have. I am not sure that I could…adapt." _Interesting._

I nodded. "I kinda know what you mean. It was hard for me to cope outside the vault." I paused. "But my mind didn't change. Just the things around – the animals, the people. The landscape. " I laughed. "The first time I saw a radscorpion, I almost shit my pants."

He chuckles.

I add, quickly, "I think you can adapt. It just takes time. If I could come out of a hole in the ground and be like this, you can do it." I know I sound more confident than I feel.

"What a shame that I do not feel the same."

"So – I guess the answer is no, then." I sigh.

"This is what I am. I accepted it long ago. Long before I met you."

 _Ouch._

"There is a strange comfort in it." He elaborates. "A sense of purpose – to follow orders. I do not know what I would do without it."

"You would have to find your own purpose." I say, matter-of-factly.

 _Silence._

"Have you?" He asks.

"Have I what?"

"Found your purpose?" _Good question._

"I found you. I figure that's about as good as I'm going to get."

* * *

 _Charon_

She dozes slumped up against me, while I think.

Give me enough time to think, and it always comes back to this.

My past.

The Commonwealth men took me when I was young. I don't remember my mother and father, or if I had siblings. I can't even remember what my name was then.

Even as a child, I was big – a head taller than everyone in my age group.

They trained us as soldiers from the beginning. Military men saw my potential and encouraged it. As I grew older, I learned how to kill. To maim. To torture. I followed orders – I was an attack dog, on a tight leash.

It was the last time – until now – that I had any measure of freedom. Our superiors allowed us leave from time to time to blow off steam. Short furloughs; I always wound up in someone's bed. The girls were more than eager to "raise the morale" of a Commonwealth hero, and being the tallest, I attracted a lot of attention. _I admit, I liked it_. They'd run their fingers through my fiery hair, bat their eyelashes at me. One even ran up to me and measured my foot with her hands and ran off, giggling to her friends – I had a good laugh when I found out what all that was about. _Ah, the good ol' days._

Only a few elites were chosen for the experiment. As far as I know, I'm the only one that survived. They took me away, broke me down, built me up, bound me to that cursed contract. Time had no meaning. I started missing chunks of it, left and right. They ordered me to do things that never would have been asked of me before – simple things at first, to see if I could resist the programming. Then the exercises got more…intense. First it was combat simulations – then, the real thing.

I was loyal to whoever held my contract. Without question.

Then the experiment was deemed a luxury – and I was deemed a liability.

I was shuffled from one department to another, one employer to another. Someone had a bright idea, and they started using me to scout irradiated areas. I guess they figured it would kill two birds with one stone – having no choice but to obey, I'd eventually succumb to radiation poisoning, and they'd get valuable intel.

Except, I didn't die.

I was twenty-four when I turned. When my skin started sloughing off, I didn't stay in one place too long. A seven-foot-tall soldier was awfully scary I guess, but it made people more uncomfortable to see me fall apart in front of their eyes. Eventually, my employer saw an opportunity and sold my contract to a traveling merchant for a tidy profit.

I don't know if I'll tell her any of this. I only know bits and pieces of her life from the vault; it seems better when we leave our pasts in the past.

Plus, I don't want to see her cry. Especially not for me.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I decided to go the Ender Wiggin/Child Soldier route with Charon this time. I like how it turned out, it works well with what little we know about him, and I hope you all like it too.


	21. Tall Tall Trees

**Author's Note: Yes - more smut. I'm terrible. *wink ,wink, nudge, nudge***

 **The title of this chapter comes from, of course, the Alan Jackson song of the same name. It just fit.**

* * *

 _Maleficent_

"These people are batshit." _I don't remember asking for your opinion._

"Quiet, Charon, or we'll never find out what's going on out here." _I already went to light a cigarette, and they went ape. Not off to a great start._

But, _TREES! Just like in the vault's holotapes!_

He glances at the basin. "You're not seriously thinking of drinking that." _And who's gonna stop me? YOU? Ha!_

"It's the only way they'll let me in." I whined.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Mallie."

"And satisfaction brought it back." I snicker. "Hey – how do you know about cats?" _I hadn't seen one since the holotapes from the vault, I assumed they didn't survive the war – at least not as well as dogs did, anyway._ I still hadn't asked how old he was. I figured he'd tell me, in time.

"They hide stuff like that in books." He retorts.

"Someone's testy. Is it your time of the month?" His bewildered look had me laughing so hard, I doubled over, tears streaming down my cheeks.

As I paused to catch my breath, he said "I suppose one of us has to take this seriously."

"Fine, fine. But I'm drinking it."

He crossed his arms over his chest and walked off, grumbling.

I turn to Tree Father Birch. "I'm ready."

* * *

I remember feeling really dizzy, then waking up in the clearing. Charon was standing not too far away – I found out later that when I collapsed, he wouldn't let anyone near me. They were forced to let him carry me in.

That's when the tree started talking. _I don't know what that stuff was, but bottle it up and sell it, and you'd make a fortune out in the wasteland. Trippy!_

Well, turns out I wasn't hallucinating. The tree's name was Harold, and I interrupted his long, slow story to get to the point. "Look, let's cut the bullshit and get to the matter at hand."

Long story short, Harold wanted me to kill him.

"I believe Bob's carried some of my organs into his root system. I want you to go underground and destroy my heart."

"Sure, I'll do it." _No skin off my teeth. Although, it's funny, someone asking me to kill him. I usually don't give them enough time to make the request._

* * *

I tell Charon to stay until I get back. He's not happy about it, but he does as he's told.

Headed towards the caves, I see Tree Father Birch and an older woman – perhaps his wife – arguing.

I wait politely for them to finish, then Birch approaches me, and hands me a container of sap – to apply to Harold's heart to stop his growth, because he thinks the wasteland isn't ready for Harold's power.

The older woman – indeed Birch's wife – hands me a container of liniment, to accelerate Harold's growth – she wants to share Harold's "gift" with the wasteland.

Everyone has their own agenda, I suppose.

But I know what it's like to want to be put out of my misery. Charon saved me – but I can move, run around, and I'm not in constant pain. It must be torture.

* * *

I swim through the underwater cave, and find myself in a cool, placid pool back in Harold's clearing.

The water feels good on my skin. After I destroyed Harold's heart, I've been feeling funny; tingly. When I cut it open, I was assaulted with a blast of heat and was drenched in what could only loosely be described as blood.

Tree Father Birch is waiting for me – not angry, as I expected, but sad, wistful.

 _Well, at least he's not going to try to kill me._

He expressed his remorse at not having listened to Harold sooner. _Well, sure – the grief and pain of others is a heavy burden to bear._

Hungry, I retrieved an apple from my pack, and stripped my armor off into a neat pile. Tree Father Birch and I sat; I ate and listened, and he talked.

Charon had yet to approach – _probably pissed off that I ordered him to stay_.

Slicing off a large chunk, my knife slipped, and sliced into my palm. I hissed and pressed into it. Birch, concerned, took my palm in his hand. "Come, child, we'll treat your – " he stopped, gasped. "Your skin – it's still soft, but there's no cut. See?"

 _What the…?_

 _Holy shit. The heart!_ I explained to him what happened when I cut open Harold's heart, and he got excited, and called everyone within earshot. I was quickly surrounded by the Treeminders. He asked me to do it again. "What?"

"Try to cut yourself."

Drawing the edge of my combat knife along my soft inner forearm, I was dumbfounded when I received no wound.

"You have been blessed by the Great One!" Tree Father Birch exclaimed. I looked at Charon, who had silently crept to the periphery of my throng of admirers. His expression was…peculiar. I tried to push through the crowd, and he gently shook his head, and waved me off. _Enjoy being the hero while it lasts._ I let the exuberant Treeminders lead me to the center of their commune, where they laughed, drank a strong, strange-tasting fermented drink, and told stories of Harold, and wept with joy at his last blessing.

I drank, but remained quiet, listening to the happy people, just glad to be among friends.

* * *

Sometime after dark, Charon came for me, and escorted me to our waiting bedrolls on the edge of the clearing, under a large tree. I was a little tipsy from the drink – I don't know what it's made out of, and honestly, I don't want to know.

He took off his boots and socks, helped me with mine. He sat, back against the tree; legs splayed, and brought me to rest between them, facing away from him. He gently removed the bobby pins from my hair, took it down, and brushed it, slowly, with a small hairbrush he'd retrieved from my pack.

When he finished, I leaned back into him and sighed. He hugged me tight, his head resting on the crown of mine.

We sat like that for a while.

"It's nice being a hero for once." I say.

He starts rocking me back and forth. "You feel better?"

"About what?"

"About yourself." _Wow. Straight to the point._

I smile. "Yes."

I sit and enjoy the feeling of him against me – before we got here, we spent over a week wandering around in the wastes trying to find this place – sleeping in shifts, always on watch for danger. Neither of us got much sleep, and we didn't have the time to take comfort in each other - not even a quickie to release a little tension.

"It's beautiful here." I say, after a while, gazing at the stars through the leaves of the tree sheltering us. "I want to stay for a while."

He kisses the top of my head.

"Me too."

He rubs my arm. "Your skin feels the same."

"You expected it to feel different?"

"To be honest…yes."

"They say it's bark – like I'm a tree person." I chuckle. "It'll make it a lot harder to hurt me. I might not even need armor at all."

"Or clothes." _Oh…no more scratches…_

"You're worse than a teenage boy." I tease. "Only one thing on your mind."

"I don't hear you complaining." He kisses my neck, and I lean into him, and close my eyes.

* * *

Maybe it was the drink. Maybe it was the stillness, the safety, the moonlight shining through the leaves above us, dappling our skin.

It happened so fast, I don't know where our clothes went.

My body is a jumble of sensations – rough and smooth, wet and dry, the warmth spreading beneath my navel; the achingly sweet feeling of being filled, over and over again. My thighs burn with exertion as I lift myself up and plunge downward onto him in a frenzy; slick with sweat. Back pressed against the tree, he supports me, strong hands guiding me up and down, up and down. His fingers dig into my back, he sinks his teeth into the tender hollow where my neck meets my shoulder, and I cry out: his name, over and over.

* * *

 _Charon_

She was a thing possessed.

She hungered for me; she took me, mewling like a desperate animal.

I bask in her beauty; drink it in, like a man dying of thirst.

Her swollen lips part, teeth bared, wordless gasps, wild moans erupting from her slender throat. Her delicate hands, heavy on my shoulders, pushing, straining…

I give in to temptation, and bite down on the crease of her tender neck. She calls my name, and finds release; unable to hold myself back, I follow soon thereafter.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I wake, warmed by the sunshine, covered with a thin blanket.

My clothes are placed next to me in a neat bundle. _So thoughtful. What would I do without you?_

He's sitting next to the packs, about twenty feet away, carefully sharpening our knives.

Remembering how he reacted to my nakedness that morning over at 58, I decide to needle him a little. Ignoring my clothes, I brazenly stride to the pool of water, and wade into it. The water is cool, delicious, clean. I bathe, taking my sweet time. It's been a long time since I've been submerged in water and not been clothed.

I climb out, clean and refreshed. I wring out my hair, and having no towel, resign myself to air drying. Swinging my hips licentiously, I stride over to him, naked as a jaybird, and sit in front of him, cross-legged.

Observing my state of undress, he says, "Nothing you do should ever surprise me."

"Are you uncomfortable?" I tease.

"Get some clothes on."

I giggle and fall back onto the grass, spreading my knees suggestively. "No."

The sound of metal on whetstone stops. "The Treeminders might see you."

"You weren't too worried about that last night."

"It's not like I had a choice." He's smiling. I can hear it in his voice.

I laughed. "I don't hear you complaining."

A rustle in the grass, and his face appears above mine. I squirm beneath him. "Oh, no, I'm sore." _So wonderfully, deliciously sore._

"I had something else in mind."

* * *

 _Charon_

I leave a trail of kisses down her body, nuzzle her dark, unkempt pubic mound. _Haven't had a lot of free time to trim._

No matter.

Breathing in deeply through my nose, I exhale between her legs.

She squirms. "What are you doing down th-"

"Hush now." I reply, pushing her back down. "Just lay back and enjoy it."

This was one of the few avenues we hadn't explored. Aside from a few crude remarks, I'd made it plain that because of my…condition, I didn't feel comfortable with her doing this for me – and she refused to allow me to do this if she couldn't reciprocate.

I part her legs wider and exhale another breath onto her wet, pink center.

She shivers, and then gasps as I drag my tongue across her soft folds.

I look up, savoring the view. Her midriff, rising and falling with each deep breath, her soft breasts, shifting slightly outward, quivering in anticipation.

I pause, briefly – if she wants me to stop, she'd say it now – and getting no sign, I return my attention between her slender legs.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Oooooh, if there is a Heaven, I'm there right now.

Over my heavy breathing, I can hear wet smacks, feel his lips and tongue caress me…down there.

Each time his tongue flicks briefly across my tender swollen nub, careful not to overstimulate me – is ambrosia.

He seizes my thighs, draws me closer to him, lightly sucking, and my body stiffens, my thighs press tightly against the side of his head, and he goes faster, quickly turning me into a shaking, screaming mess.

He backs away, wipes his mouth on his sleeve, and I collapse in a warm, satisfied heap.

"Now get your clothes on."


	22. Eastward, Ho!

_Maleficent_

It's time to leave.

We've stayed here a week – rested, washed, talked, had time alone to ourselves. Fucked like rabbits.

 _Our honeymoon. Or the closest we'd ever get to one._

I know that the Treeminders would let us stay as long as we want – but my feet are itching. We gotta move, gotta go. _Can't get too close, or they'll find out who I really am._

Vault 92 looks close – and I can grab that violin while I'm there. Do a favor for a little old lady. Before you know it, I'll be a saint.

 _Well, maybe not. But it's not for lack of trying._

Charon is getting the packs together while I tell the Treeminders that we're leaving. He's not good with goodbyes. I'm not either, but – I'm better than he is.

They take it well - I think they knew that we couldn't stay forever. "We'll come back." I promise, halfheartedly. _Oh, how I would love to come back. Oh, how I would never want to leave._

I return to the clearing.

"Are you sure there's not time for another – " Charon starts.

"No." I shake my head. "Haven't you had enough of me yet?"

He kisses me behind the ear. "I don't think I ever will."

* * *

 _Charon_

I didn't want to leave, but…orders.

Her body – I have caressed every nook and cranny, but I still want more.

It's strange that a woman who grew up in the ground would want to tear up her roots and move from a comfortable place. We're safe here. Happy. But it's not my place to question her.

We head east.

On the way to Vault 92, I decide to take a chance. Maybe it might get her to open up.

"Mallie, do you know how old I am?"

"Well, you can't be as old as the war. You would have known about cats first-hand, not from books."

"Do you want to know how old I am? Or anything about my past?" I ask.

"If you want me to. I don't see how it matters." _She sounds irritated_.

"I'm about seventy-five. From the Commonwealth."

"Up north?" she asks.

"Yeah."

"A soldier?" _Well…of a kind._

"Yeah."

She nods, takes a drag on her cigarette. "If you want me to say something about me, just stop. You're wasting your time. I don't wanna talk about it."

"Is that an order?"

"No. Maybe I'll be ready later. Just not now."

We walk, side by side.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Goddamit. If I wanted to say something, I'd say it.

Does he want to hear about how I never fit in? About how I had to hide who I was to avoid being drugged into complacency? About how I tore radroaches limb from limb to satiate the Darkness? About how I ruined the breeding plans of the Vault? About my GOAT results?

About how I destroyed my home out of anger and spite?

About how scared and alone and desperate I was when I left?

NO. It's not his. IT'S MINE.

It's my shame. I must bear it alone.

* * *

We fight through an encampment, thick with super mutants.

Fighting takes my mind off of things. Shuts him up.

The blood makes me feel better. It feels good to hurt things.

He wants to open me up, but I want to close down. We're at cross-purposes.

I know I can't love him and keep him at arm's length forever, but I'll do it as long as I can.

* * *

 _Charon_

It's what I was afraid of – she shut down.

 _Torn between her past and her love for me._

I can wait.

A lifetime, if necessary.

* * *

"Shit, this stinks."

"Is your objection ALWAYS going to be the smell?" she asks, sounding irritated.

 _Sigh._ "Smells like fish. And rot."

"Well, we have to go in anyway. No use complaining." She says.

"Tell me why we have to do this again?" _I've only been in one vault thus far, and didn't particularly enjoy it._

"There's an old lady, waiting for her violin." _I'm not even gonna ask._

"And you're the savior of the wastes, now?"

"Evidently." She strides in.

* * *

I shove her aside and shoot the Mirelurk in the face.

As it crumples to the floor, she complains, "That was completely unnecessary. I had it under control."

We hear the telltale clicks of whatever language the mirelurks have. _There's more._

"If you have any bottlecap mines, now's the time to use them." I advise.

* * *

There's lots of supplies in here – and lots of notes and terminal entries, which are starting to piss her off. I've been with her long enough to anticipate her moods. Sometimes, I think that I know what she's feeling before she does.

I stand aside as she beats a computer terminal into a million pieces with a tire iron.

She stops, sweating and panting; drops her weapon unceremoniously on the floor, where it lands with a heavy _clank._

"Feel better now?"

"Let's find that violin and get the fuck out of here."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Another vault where people were driven crazy.

This time, subliminal messages. Trying to make super soldiers. I look over at Charon – _wonder if anything they found out here helped make you_.

He had lots of skin left on him for a ghoul – especially one of his profession. I figured he'd be on the young side. From what he told me, I assumed he'd been either at the Institute or near it. If there was even an Institute then.

Young or not, he'd seen a lot more than I have. Poor bastard.

Part of me wanted to have him take me in his arms; tell him everything. Burden him with my sins. Give him some of my pain.

It wasn't as strong as the private part – the selfish part. The part that wanted my memories for me. The part that wanted not to care, about myself or anyone else. The part that alternated from stony silence to unbearable pain.

We found the violin in the music studio.

He's right – this place fuckin' stinks. "Let's get the fuck out of here."

* * *

"I figure we'll head east, to the Republic of Dave."

"Republic of _Dave_?"

"Yeah. It's a little commune, run by this tin-pot dictator who fancies himself a president. Bet you can't guess what his name is."

Charon shakes his head; rolls his eyes.

"Regardless, it's a decent place to stop – no Canterbury Commons, but it'll do. Plus, we'll want a bed and a shower after we take a nice wide berth around Old Olney."

"Why not go straight through? It'd be quicker."

"Because I'd rather not die. If you feel like getting your ass chewed off by a deathclaw, be my guest. The place is infested with them. I'd rather not stir 'em up."

* * *

We crouch behind an outcropping and look down at a small Enclave outpost.

"Lovely!"

"How many of them are there?" Charon asks.

"Four. Three soldiers and one officer. We'll pick off the troops – I want the officer alive."

I creep off with my reservist's rifle to find another vantage point. He'll wait for my signal.

 _The Darkness is hungry again._

* * *

 _Charon_

A shot rings out; one of the soldiers drops like a rock. The others look around, heads on swivels.

Lucky we keep a sniper rifle in my pack to repair hers. Came in handy today – shotguns are close-quarters weapons. Today we need range and accuracy, not raw power.

I find the calmer soldier and aim for the face plate of his power armor – that and the joints are the weakest links. The face plate shatters inward, and he slumps to the ground.

The last two, panicking, find cover behind their metal shelter and start firing wildly, in my general direction.

Three taps on my leg – _hi, sweetie_.

She crawls up next to me and shows me a Stealth Boy strapped to her arm. My eyes widen – _you're not seriously thinking of going down there?_

She points at me, then at them. "Cover me."

She hits the button on the Stealth Boy, and disappears.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

After a few seconds, he fires off a couple rounds and I sidle around to their south side. They're fixated on Charon, so the soldier doesn't see me when I casually walk up to him and shoot him three times in the face plate with my scoped .44.

Terrified, the officer jumps, whirls, and comes face to face with empty air.

Unsheathing my combat knife, I sneak up behind him and press it to his throat. "Put it down." His heart is hammering so hard, it might just pop right out of his chest.

The plasma pistol falls to the ground, producing a small cloud of dust.

"Come on out, Charon!" I yell.

"Now," I croon sweetly into his ear, "I want some answers."

* * *

 _Charon_

This is gonna be ugly.

No one shoots at my girl and lives.

She has a special hate for the Enclave – let's hope this one doesn't lie and make it worse than it already has to be.

As I approach, his eyes widen in terror. As if a ghost holding a knife to his neck isn't scary enough, a seven-foot-tall ghoul foggin' out of nowhere must be making him close to pissing his pants.

She has me bind his hands and sit him on the ground, back up against a weapons trunk. When the Stealth Boy wears off, she's crouched beside him, toying with her knife.

He jumps, and cries out. "Aww, don't be scared now. You'll have plenty of time later." She grins, wickedly.

He's trembling, eyes jumping from her to me, frantically.

"Now, I'll ask you a few questions, and if you don't lie to me, I'll kill you quick. Okay?"

The kid starts to cry. He can't be much older than she is – nineteen, twenty. _If the Enclave is sending green officers out into the field with no supervision, they must be lower on resources than we thought._

"What are you doing here?" she asks.

"Um…handing out water."

"A lie." Her face hardens.

The kid cringes.

"Last time. What are you doing here?"

"T-testing." He stammers.

"Testing for what?"

"Genetic mutation."

Her head tilts to the side, considering her next question.

"Why?"

"I don't…I don't understand." His eyes are darting back and forth.

"Okay, I'll put it another way." She drags the knife point against his cheek, not hard enough to break the skin, but with enough pressure to thoroughly terrify him. "What do you do to people who…fail the test?"

"We…" he gulps. "We _destroy_ them."

"How?"

"Our orders are to shoot them…then burn them."

"Why kill them?" she asks.

The boy straightens, finds some courage. "They're abominations. Freaks. Genetically unclean."

"And I suppose you believe that you aren't." she suggests, thoughtfully.

"I came from the bunker. I'm pure."

She laughs, looks at me. "Pure! Isn't that rich!" She slices open his cheek, a gash three inches long. He screams.

She puts down her knife, and unbuttons his uniform shirt. _What the…?_

She picks her knife back up, and slices through the undershirt, folds it back. _Ah, shit._

She looks at me. "I need more to work with."

She straddles his legs, places the tip of the knife under his chin. So, what do you think of him there?" indicating me.

 _Ah, shit. If this stupid little fuck has any brains in his head, he'd lie._

His meets my eyes, his face consumed with disgust. "Unclean. A genetic abomination. It doesn't deserve to live." I clench my teeth and close my eyes, as shrill screams pierce the barren wasteland.

"Mallie – these screams are gonna attract someone. Or something. Hurry up and finish with him."

"Go patrol, then. Keep watch."

"Mallie-"

"I SAID GO."

I turn, grateful for the order. I don't like watching this shit. It's bad enough that I'm gonna have to listen to it.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I didn't make it easy for him – especially after he called me a corpse fucker and spit in my face.

The Enclave must be scraping the bottom of the barrel, if this is their best and brightest. Sings like a canary, and then doesn't even have enough fuckin' sense to keep his mouth shut and die quick when given the opportunity.

I wipe my knife off on his pants and return it to its sheath.

We dig around in the crates; grab ammo, mines, and grenades. Assholes or not, the Enclave's got good tech. We also retrieve the weapons of the dead soldiers. My plasma rifle at home is in shitty condition – I could probably fix it with one of these.

We head northeast, around Old Olney, to the Republic of Dave.


	23. Hail to the Chief

_Maleficent_

We approach the gate. "Stand behind me, so you don't get shot."

"Wonderful." He grumbles.

Bob unlatches the gate. "Ah – the ambassador returns." He looks at Charon. "With a…friend."

"He's my bodyguard. He'll mind his own business."

"You better hope so." Bob sneers.

"Is President Dave in the Capitol building this evening? I'd like to speak with him, if possible."

"You know the way." He allows us to walk in the compound, and locks the gate behind us.

* * *

With some minor bickering – and a generous gift of mirelurk meat from the people of the wasteland to the great Republic, Dave allows us to wash up and stay the night – we aren't allowed in the dorms, however. Even if we were, we'd have to split up, and I doubt Charon would be welcome, no matter how magnanimous Dave sounds. There are some who sound awfully tolerant of ghouls, but their true colors show when the rubber meets the road.

We situate our bedrolls outside the museum, about a foot across from each other – a respectable distance. Mary, Dave's twelve-year-old daughter - always curious - can't help but ask if there's anything she can do for us. I send her off for a pail of water – not being allowed in the dorms, I didn't want to push our luck and ask Dave for the use of a shower, so it looks like we'll just have to get a bucket of water and a rag, and hit the hot spots.

The shower situation can be easily rectified in Canterbury Commons. I'm just glad we won't have to sleep in shifts tonight.

"She was staring at me," complains Charon, indicating Mary.

"Of course. She's probably never seen a ghoul before - and definitely not one so big. She's just curious."

"I don't like it."

"I figure you would've gotten used to scaring little girls by now." I joked. "Hey – at least she didn't scream and run away. It could be worse." _Besides, she's a bright little girl. A shame that her dad will probably quash that in no time._

He grumbles, leans up against the wall and lights a cigarette.

"We'll head out tomorrow morning, and go for Canterbury Commons."

"Whatever you say, boss."

"You got another one of them?" I ask. He hands me the pack, and I shake one out. "Thanks."

* * *

 _Charon_

I try not to touch her, or act too familiar with her, but it's hard.

We can't give people the wrong impression – or, maybe the right impression. We'd make pariahs of ourselves. Few wastelanders are tolerant enough to accept our relationship for what it is, and I doubt Dave would be thrilled to find out what's really going on.

We take turns holding up a sheet, rubbing ourselves down briefly with a wet rag. It doesn't bother me much – sometimes, this is the best you can hope for when it comes to baths in the wasteland. Water is valuable, and drinking is first priority. Pretty much everyone stinks out here, so there's little inclination to judge.

She takes her hair down for the night, and we have a brief meal, and a cigarette, in silence.

We have much to talk about, but little desire to dredge it up.

Who knows who might overhear if we did?

The little girl – Mary – keeps looking at me, jerks away when I look back at her. I start to feel self-conscious. Not the first time, nor will it be the last.

I stare up at the stars and rub my worry stone – the past. I find myself wishing that I'd never been unique, never been taken, trained, or experimented on. I find myself wishing that I could have resisted scouting irradiated buildings, so I never would have become what I am today. I find myself wishing that I still had skin, hair – so that people didn't look at me like I was a monster or an animal.

But, I'd be long dead if I hadn't become what I was. It's a rare wastelander that survives long after forty. I never would have met her; I never would have known her smile, her all-too-seldom laugh, her surprisingly gentle touch. Or…other things.

Maybe the benefits outweigh the drawbacks.

* * *

I wake up in the middle of the night to a kick in the shin. _OUCH! Motherfu–oh no._

She's having a nightmare. A high-pitched, keening cry, thankfully at low volume, comes from her. She's facing away from me, trembling, kicking, and breathing hard.

It'll only get worse from here. _Unless –_ I look around briefly, and seeing no one, I reach over and pull her to me. She calms, still trembling, whimpering furtively, like a small animal. I stroke her hair, and whisper "Shhh…hush now. It's okay, everything's gonna be okay," into her ear.

When she stops trembling, I shift her back to her own bedding, and straighten her blanket.

 _What could frighten her that bad? What gives the Devil of the Wastes nightmares?_

I close my eyes and go back to sleep.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

 _I love you, Charon._

We're in the clearing in Oasis again; it's green, beautiful, and warm.

I take his hand, squeeze, and he draws me in against him. So warm, the smell of leather, gunpowder, sweet copper. And then…then he starts falling apart. Falling to pieces. _OHMYGODNO! DON'T GO, DON'T LEAVE ME, NONONONO!_ I scream, clutching him, trying to catch pieces of him as they fall, wetly, to the ground. I watch in horror as he crumbles in my arms, breaks apart, falls to the ground. NO,CHARON, NO! DON'T LEAVE ME! YOU'RE ALL I HAVE! I'm crying, digging through the pieces, there's his head, his FACE, and as I cradle it in my arms, he opens his mouth and says, "Shhh…hush now. It's okay, everything's gonna be okay."

 _Everything goes black._

* * *

 _Charon_

We leave shortly after sunrise, headed south.

After the Republic is left in the dust behind us, she says "Mary knows."

I frown. "Knows what?"

"Knows about _US._ "

 _Oh shit._ "How? I didn't –"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong. She saw us last night."

I take a deep breath, let it out. _I don't know what to say._

"I was having a nightmare, and you held me. It's not something a bodyguard would do."

 _No, indeed, it is not._

"She asked me this morning, before we left. I told her the truth, and she promised not to tell anyone."

 _Thank god._

She continued. "Y'know…I never really wanted kids. Even with the vault's procreation propaganda bullshit, I never wanted to sit at home and raise a brat. But if I could have a kid, I'd like it to be like her."

I frown again. "What do you mean, 'if'?"

"Oh, I'm sterile." I raise my eyebrows. _This is new._

"It was an accident – a mutation. I was doing some research on radiation for someone and –" she shrugs. "One less thing to worry about. It's bad enough just living out here, but being pregnant? Fuck. No thanks."

She tosses her cigarette. "Shit. Look alive - hostiles up ahead!"


	24. A Rose by Any Other Name

_Maleficent_

We skirt by most of the buildings south of the Republic, once I check my Pip-Boy and find them brimming with hostiles. Probably raiders. It feels like we're fighting through either yao guai or giant radscorps every ten minutes. With the both of us, it's not too tough.

At least it gets the blood pumping. And staves off boredom.

I don't want to start talking again. Who knows what might come out of my stupid mouth? I have enough shit to worry about.

At night, we find good vantage points, and sleep in shifts. My back fuckin' hurts. _I could really go for a bed right now_. Charon takes first watch, and I stare up at the stars, unable to sleep. Also, unable to close my fool mouth.

"I'll hurt you, you know."

 _Silence._

"I hurt everyone, eventually."

"Shut the fuck up with that shit." He growls.

I sigh. "Why on earth are you still with me? I mean, besides the contract."

"Because I want to be."

I close my eyes. _I suppose that's good enough for me._

* * *

 _Charon_

We stare at a building in the distance.

She studies her wrist computer. "All friendlies, looks like." _That's new._ I'll believe it when I see it. I still don't trust that silly thing. Better safe than sorry.

We approach warily, from the west side, and we're challenged by a woman from the second floor. "Hannibal says I gotta let folks like you in, but I don't have to like it." She unlocks the gate and allows us to enter. "I'll be watching you."

Yeah. Ditto.

I feel eyes on me. I hate this – first time walking into anywhere, and I'm always stared at like I'm some kind of animal in a zoo. Makes what little skin I have left crawl.

On the second floor, we're greeted by a dark man with a scruffy beard. "Welcome! I'm Hannibal Hamlin, and this is the Temple of the Union."

He explains that they're a bunch of runaway slaves, trying to make a community of their own; help other runaway slaves. I can get behind that.

"Hi, Hannibal. I'm Lilith."

I start, glance at her for a second. _Lilith? Who the fuck is that?_ I'll figure it out later. Now I have to play the good bodyguard. I stand quiet, stock-still as she agrees to clear out Super Mutants from the Lincoln Memorial – sounds like fun – and to fetch a picture from the Museum of History for the stone mason.

We lay our bedding on the ground floor, under the stairs. If something happens, then we can book it, quick, instead of being cornered in one of those tiny rooms.

After eating, we sit, leaning up against a wall, smoking.

We seem to pass a lot of time that way.

My curiosity gets the best of me. I lean over and ask, "So - who's Lilith?"

"It's me."

"But why didn't you introduce yourself as – "

She interrupts me with a harsh whisper. "Because I was a slaver, dumbass. If I'd have introduced myself as Maleficent, they'd have skinned me alive. Or tried to."

"I had no idea you were that famous."

"I was Eulogy's pet. He'd sing my praises to anyone who'd listen. So yeah – my name got around."

"So," I ask again, "who's Lilith?"

"It was my name. Before I left. Lilith Ann." _Interesting._

"You have a lot of secrets."

"So do you."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I was trying to avoid that. I guess when you try to remake yourself, there's bound to be some awkwardness, especially in the name department.

A name is something pretty personal; I should have told him – but it was mine. I'm selfish.

I hide behind my cigarette. _It's only a matter of time before he asks._

"Why didn't you tell me?" _Here we go._

I consider lying, then discard the idea. "I'm selfish. It was mine."

He grunts, nods. _He understands._

We both have secrets. It's good to have things in common.

* * *

 _Charon_

We sleep next to each other – well, about a foot apart.

It's painful to have her so close, yet not being able to touch her. Sacking out in the wastes, I could sit near her, touch her hair, rub her shoulder while I was on watch. But I suppose it's worth it to see her relaxed, feeling safe.

Nowhere is safe.

Someone's always patrolling here – it pays to be paranoid, especially if you're a runaway slave.

I lay my shotgun in between us – to keep me from giving in to the temptation to reach out to her. Last thing we need is me blowing our cover again.

I close my eyes.

* * *

We're making love. Slowly, languorously.

Her body yields to me, eagerly.

She's so warm, so beautiful. So soft.

"Charon," she says

I look in her eyes. Eyes so blue, they make my heart ache.

"Goodbye, Charon," she says…and vanishes.

* * *

As with most mornings, I wake before she does.

She must've rolled over during the night – she's facing me. I watch her chest rise and fall, a soft smile on her lips. Her hair is getting dirty, stringy, and greasy – it's time for a real shower. Sometimes, "field showers" don't cut it.

I frown. She'll have to do her own hair this morning – brushing, tying, pinning. It's something I like doing; something that I do well. Something that pleases her. Of course, it's not something a bodyguard would do.

I hear the guard – Hannibal, I can tell, from his heavy footsteps – on the second floor, keeping watch.

I'll let her sleep for a little longer. It's one of the few times that she's at peace. The Darkness doesn't seem to bother her there – although, she's never told me about what she sees in her nightmares.

 _Lilith._ I don't feel any betrayal. We all have secrets. I don't begrudge her this one.

To me, she will always be Mallie – impulsive, hard, brutal – but soft and sweet at the same time. At least, she is to me.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

He's already up and has breakfast ready. _What would I do without you?_

Man, I feel gross. I surreptitiously sniff my armpit, feel my hair. _Ugh. Stinky and greasy. I need a real shower._

Through bleary eyes, I twist dials and push buttons on my Pip-Boy. _If I'm gonna get a shower, we need to go east, to Canterbury._ I'd rather avoid the area entirely – there's been more Regulators spotted around there recently – but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Regulators aren't as well-trained and armored as Talon Company, so we'd be unlikely to die.

'We.' _HA! They're just after me._

I start to put up my hair, and I can tell that Charon is agitated. He likes to do it, and he does it a lot better than me – I'm sure that he'll wind up insisting that we stop when we're out of sight from the Temple so that he can redo it.

We get our shit together. I promise Hannibal that we'll return to escort them to the Memorial when it's empty. He gives me an ear-to-ear smile and shakes my hand, vigorously, wishing me luck.

I don't need luck – just bullets.


	25. Beautiful Music

_Maleficent_

We stopped in the café at Canterbury and had a bite to eat, and I introduced everyone to Charon.

I may be the Devil elsewhere, but after I took care of their "ant problem," I became something of a celebrity in the small settlement.

I managed to finagle a newly cleared-out private room for us at Uncle Roe's, in the firehouse. I tried to pay him, but he wouldn't hear of it. "Our hero deserves the best Canterbury Commons has to offer. It's not Tenpenny Tower, but it's clean."

We rested our packs in a corner. "I could go for a nap and a shower right now." We made a show of doubling up the bedrolls on the floor – even when we were among friends we have to keep up appearances.

He barricades the door – old habits die hard.

I strip and lay on the bed, and he hesitates. I sigh and close my eyes. _I'm tired. I don't have time or patience for your nonsense right now._

When I wake later, he's beside me, soaking up my warmth. I yawn contentedly and stretch against him, and he stirs, nuzzling into my hair. Seeing an opportunity, I wiggle my hips, and he responds, grinding against me from behind.

I moan, and he whispers – "Shhhhhhh…" I pause, suddenly remembering where we are. He runs his rough hand down the length of my body, purring contentedly.

"Mmmm…" I relish the sensation. It's one thing to fight alongside one another, brief touches as we pass magazines or grenades to each other, tend to each other's wounds - but intimate contact is another thing entirely. He kisses my neck, and I close my eyes and melt into him. I can feel his soft, warm breath in my ear, in my hair.

He pushes gently on my lower back, tilting my hips forward. Reaching in front of us, he guides himself slowly, gently, inside of me. We move with each other, our bodies finding a soft, delicate rhythm, as he parts my velvety folds and strokes the precious jewel hidden within. The bed frame creaks quietly, in mild protest.

He whispers to me; tells me that I'm beautiful, that I am his world, and that he loves me more than anything. I wish I can live in this moment forever.

When I come, it is mild, sweet – a gentle shiver, a soft gasp.

We lie there for a few moments.

Softly, I ask – "would you like the shower first?"

"You go…I will follow."

* * *

 _Charon_

She is my world.

I do not deserve something this precious.

When she leaves for the shower, I start packing for the trip ahead, setting aside a neat pile of clean clothes for myself. We're headed west, towards the Scrapyard, so we can give that old lady her violin.

After I finish, I sit on the bed, and wait for her to return, with orders.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

The water is warm. It rolls down my body, taking the dirt and grime of the wasteland with it. I stand in the spray – I don't want to think, I just want to feel. I don't want to have to worry about anyone's problems – not even my own. I don't want to have to think about my secrets, the promises I've made, the meaning of love, and the pain of not being able to display it for fear of being ostracized. The mask of stone I have to wear, for his sake.

The Darkness sits in the back of my mind, content; satiated by the blood of the Enclave officer.

Eventually, I'm going to have to finish what Dad started. Before Charon, I didn't give two shits about the purifier, about the G.E.C.K. I figured that if the Brotherhood wanted it so bad, then it could spare a few guys to go into 87 and fetch it for them. I was tired of letting other people dictate my life. First Dad, then the Brotherhood, and now, indirectly, Charon.

The difference with Charon is that I don't mind.

His isn't the paternalistic "Daddy-knows-best" shit that I've gotten before – just gentle reminders that we depend on each other. That he depends on me.

At first I wanted to run away _from_ him. Now, I want to run away _with_ him. We can leave the Capitol behind, go south or west. Maybe we'll find a place more accepting. I don't have my hopes up, but at least there's a chance. We don't have much of a future here.

But I can't do that yet. We can't go. I must finish this. It's my burden and mine alone.

 _I'll have to send him away; something I told him I'd never do_.

Sometimes, it seems like my life is a story of one betrayal after another.

I'll postpone it until I can't anymore. I know the longer I wait, the harder it will get – but I don't know if I'll survive this. I want to spend as much time with him as I can. I want to be happy – at least for a little while.

Now let's go give that old broad her violin.

* * *

After Charon takes his brief shower, we're back on the road. Or, what passes for a road these days.

I'd floated the possibility of exploring Vault 108, but Charon's having none of it. I know that I could just go and order him in with me – but it really doesn't seem worth it. I'm really not in the mood for his bitching. After all, it's not like the vault's going anywhere.

There's lots of empty space between Canterbury and the Scrapyard. Plenty of time to think, smoke – and talk, but we don't do a lot of that.

We find the odd radscorpion and some groups of raiders on the way. I find them early enough to where I can practice with my reservist's rifle. I missed one, and let Charon take care of him when he rushed us with a tire iron. "Ugh. That was sloppy. Sorry about that. Got a lot on my mind." I drawled around my cigarette.

"Wanna talk about it?" he asks.

"It's about those slaves. Or, former slaves." _Not a direct lie – I was thinking about them, too._

"Oh?"

"I was thinking – that maybe if I help them out, I can redeem myself. Atone for what I did." _At least a little bit._

"Life doesn't work that way." Charon says, authoritatively.

"It doesn't, huh?"

"No. You do things, you feel bad about 'em. Then you make different choices, you feel better. It doesn't make what you did go away. You just learn to live with it." _Makes sense._

I sigh. "Can't anything be easy?"

He shook his head. "No."

"That was rhetorical."

* * *

"This thing drives me nuts." I'm poking at my Pip-Boy, frustrated with the map. Agatha's is hard to get to from this direction, and the limitations of the little computer are made abundantly clear from the confusing, sometimes glitchy map function. I think it may have something to do with the disparity between the pre-war atlases in its database and the post-war reality, but that theory – truth or not – won't help me climb rocks.

"You should learn how to orient yourself from the environment, then. Use landmarks. " He points at my Pip-Boy. "What if that thing goes tits-up? You'd be stranded."

"I'm not arguing about this right now." _I don't need your attitude._

"As you wish. Lead the way, boss." He smirks.

We take the long way around, me cursing at my Pip-Boy the whole way.

* * *

"Step back, I'll introduce you."

"Worried about me getting shot?" he says, with a raised eyebrow.

"No – I'm worried about her getting a heart attack when she opens the door to a seven-foot ghoul mercenary. That's the last thing I need on my conscience."

He retreats to a respectable distance, and I knock on the door.

"Agatha?"

"Oh, Maleficent, dear, it's wonderful to see you again!" she exclaims.

"I brought a friend this time. Charon, come on over."

He joins me at my side, nods his head to her in greeting.

She holds her hand out, startling him. He takes it, pumping twice, gently. "Not many people wanna shake my hand."

"I'm not many people. Once you get to be my age, appearances don't much matter anymore."

He tilts his head. _At a loss for words, big guy?_

"You value what's in here – " she poked at his chest plate with one wrinkled, yet nimble finger "– much more." She smiles. He stares at her, bewildered.

"Well, come in, come in! We can't stand out here all night, can we?"

* * *

 _Charon_

This old lady is nuttier than a fruitcake.

I glance at Mallie. _Just when I get cynical, I meet someone like Agatha. Too sweet to be real._

Her face lights up when Mallie hands her the violin. She's almost crying with happiness. "Oh! It's so beautiful! A true work of art. Hey – why don't you two stay the evening? I can give you a private concert – aside from the radio frequency, it's the least I can do."

"No, we-" I start, but Mallie speaks up. "That would be lovely, Agatha. Take all the time you need to warm up."

She points at a chair, next to the dining table. "Get comfortable. And take off that armor." She then breaks out a bottle of wine, and finds three glasses. "Fine company, fine music, and fine wine." She says, as she fills them. "It's the little things that make life worth living."

She pulls off her own armor and settles in the chair across from me. She starts picking bobby pins out of her hair, and sips her wine, waiting for the show to begin.

* * *

I have never heard anything like this.

Dramatic highs that make my heart soar with joy; sweet lows that twist my stomach in grief. Music has never made me feel this way before – all I've heard is the remnants of pre-war music: love songs, toe-tappers, catchy tunes that are easy to sing along and dance to.

It makes me want to cry, to scream – to hold Mallie and never let go.

I glance over at Mallie, and she's watching Agatha, entranced, her cheeks wet. Sensing the movement of my head, she meets my eyes, reaches across the table, and rests her hand on mine. I squeeze it, close my eyes.

My heart feels like it's going to burst.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I almost feel sorry for him.

Emotions come slow to that one – he must feel overwhelmed right now. His pulse is racing, his breathing is shallow and quick. I squeeze his hand back, and wonder how long he can last before he tries to run. He looks at me.

I mouth to him, "Stay with me."

His jaw clenches, he nods, eyes closed.

 _Poor baby._

When Agatha finishes, I thank her for a wonderful performance. A quality violin allows her natural musical ability to shine. We pick up our armor, and then I tell her that we'll bed down under the stars tonight, and thank her for a wonderful evening.

The door closes, and we walk past her little fence, toward where we dropped our packs. As soon as we're out of the line of sight of the little house, he grabs my shoulder, twirls me around to face him. He drops his armor, cups my face in both of his large hands. "The whole time, all I could think about was you." I smile.

"I want you."

I look into his eyes, and see there only pure need. "Right now." _Whoa._

I stiffen. My heart starts to race.

"Here." I try to pull my head back a little, and he tightens his grip.

"In the dirt." He growls.

"If you want it, take it." I sneer, defiantly.

Then we were scrabbling in the dust, fighting one another; our game.

I get to my feet, hair in my eyes. By the time I can orient myself, he's behind me, tugging at my pants. _It's not my fault for being slow, really – this game is designed for him to win._

I twist, intent on changing direction, and fall instead. _Whoops, game over._

He's on me immediately. Having managed to unbuckle my belt, he yanks my pants down to mid-thigh. I squirm, get to my hands and knees and start to crawl away. He grabs a baggy trouser leg and pulls, knocking me flat on my chest. A split second later, his hand is on my back, pushing me into the ground. Writhing in the gritty dust, I fight him as he pulls my pants down further, then with great effort, flips me over and catches my hands, squeezing my wrists in one of his huge paws.

He plants a knee between my thighs before I could think to close them.

My hair fell over my eyes in the struggle.

Leaning forward, knee grinding into me, he brushes my hair from my forehead. He pauses, examining his prize.

"Submit." He orders.

"Never." I growl, and buck against him. _I could stop him if I wanted to, with a single word. If I wanted to._

"Have it your way." With the swift, efficient, coordinated movements of a professional soldier, he pins my arms above my head, positions himself, and enters me.

I writhe against him, producing a guttural shout.

When he loses his grip on my wrists, there's a flutter of hands, nails scratching, and he pins my wrists to either side of me.

Thrusting into me, he barks, "Submit!"

"No….." I shake my head back and forth, breathless.

He leans into me, pinning me against the ground, thrusts harder, faster.

"Submit!"

"Oooh, yes! Yes…"

Shortly after my assent, he finds his release, bellowing into the cool night air.

We lie there for a moment. Covered in dirt that's mixed with sweat, leaving muddy streaks on both of us. _So much for that shower._

He releases first one wrist, then the other; brushes my hair from my eyes. "You shouldn't have taken your hair down."

I smile at him. "I couldn't resist teasing you."

"You're a heartless creature." He croons.

"It's part of my charm."

He pushes off me, gets to his feet, and hikes his pants up. "I'll be back."

* * *

 _Charon_

We know how to push each other's buttons so well. Our relationship is all manipulation, emotion, reaction. It may not be healthy, but try as I might, I can't deny that I'm enjoying it. I glance over at her as she cleans up as best she can. _Everything is a game to her. No – it's an elaborate play, with her as the star._

"Thanks, now I'm covered in dirt." She complains.

"Maybe you wouldn't be if you gave in sooner." I point out.

She smirks at me. "Where's the fun in that?"

She stands up, and stoops periodically – collecting everything that we…dropped. "Let's go to bed. I don't know about you, but I'm worn out."

 _Sounds like a plan._

* * *

I watch her sleep.

She doesn't like when I do it – she says it makes her uncomfortable. But I can't help it. She looks so content, so calm. She's so active and animated when she's awake that it's hard to imagine her at rest, dreaming like the rest of us dream.

I stroke her hair until I fall asleep.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I couldn't help including a tiny Gone with the Wind reference in this scene.


	26. Old Friends

_Maleficent_

We make our way through the metro tunnels, climb the stairs, look left and right.

"So – do you want to do the easy stuff first, or get the hard stuff out of the way?" I ask him.

"Let's go clear those super mutants out of the memorial. "

"That's what I was thinking. Clear 'em, out, then we can go to the Museum of History, find that picture for Caleb, and spend the night at Carol's."

We turn right, heading towards the memorial. I light a cigarette, and offer him one – he refuses. _All business._

I stop, dig in my pack, and hand him a few grenades. "Here – take these. You're better at throwing them anyway. Might come in handy." He stows them in various pockets.

"Let's get a move on."

As we approach, we see two dead super mutants lying on the ground. "Hmm. Looks like someone's beat us to it." I drop my cigarette and grind the butt under my boot heel. "Let's go see who we have to thank for making our job easier."

"Stop right there!" comes a voice from behind stacked sandbags. "The memorial is off-limits!"

 _Ah, shit. I know that voice._

"Look alive." Charon instantly becomes alert.

I try my best to disguise my voice. "We're just curious. What's going on here?"

"We've taken over the memorial. Unless you have business with Leroy, then you can fuck off!"

"Can I head up and talk to him?"

It sounds like he's waffling for a second. "Fine. Just stay on the path. I'll take you to him."

He turns, and we follow, Charon still on high alert. When we get close to the door, I croon, "Hi, Silas." The last thing he sees is my shotgun barrel in his face.

* * *

 _Charon_

"What the FUCK just happened?" I yell, bullets flying.

"No biggie!" she shouts, popping out from behind her cover to shoot at the guys up the steps. "Just some of my slaver buddies."

 _Fuckin' GREAT._

"FUCK!" She screams, and hits the deck. _Jesus, she's shot. They got her._

She grabs her SMG and sprays the memorial steps. _Well, apparently not._

Using her generously provided cover fire, I pop out and manage to take out one of them. _Three left._

Wait a second...the grenades! I dig in a pocket, palm a grenade, pull the pin, and depress the lever. I take a split second to aim, and let the bitch fly. Welcome to the party, motherfuckers.

After a deafening explosion and more flying bullets, the remaining desperate slaver decided to run. Mallie coolly shot him in the back, and then started digging in his pockets for goodies. "Don't know this guy." She turned over the other three, going through their pockets. "He looks familiar. But where the fuck is Leroy?"

I point to the door in the base of the memorial. She slaps her forehead. "Of course!"

"I'll go in first this time." I sigh. "I wish you'd tell me before you decided to do something stupid."

"Haven't we had this conversation before?" she asks, jokingly.

"Probably."

"We'll talk about it later."

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I kick in the door, and Charon goes in low, firing.

I hear a scream, and return fire. _Ding dong, Leroy. Avon calling!_

The shotgun roar is deafening. I pop out just in time to see Charon double-tap Leroy in the chest, when my left leg erupts in fire. I feel warm liquid run down my leg, think for a second, _did I just piss myself?_

I look down and blood is pouring down my leg.

"Get me to Barrows," I say, as the world swims out of focus.

* * *

 _Charon_

 _Tourniquet, tourniquet…there!_

I yank off her belt, put it around her leg, above the wound. I snag a pool cue, break it, slide half of it under the belt and turn. She'd deathly pale. _Let's just hope I can make it._

I administer a stimpak, but it looks to be doing little good. "Mallie, hold the tourniquet closed!" _No good. She's about to pass out._ I wrap the loose end of her belt around it – hopefully, it'll hold.

I clutch her to my chest and run as fast as I can for Underworld, leaving everything else behind.


	27. Stomping Grounds

_Charon_

I pace back and forth outside the door of the Chop Shop. Doc said it'd be touch and go.

 _Shot by a fuckin' slaver with a sawed-off. How could I be so stupid? You're supposed to protect her!_

Winthrop approaches, hesitantly. "Would you like to sit?"

"No."

"Charon, at least go to the restroom and wash off all that blood. You're making everyone nervous."

 _What?_ I look down at my clothes; big, bright red stains – smears, drips on my pants. My right forearm is coated with it. _So much blood._

"Thanks, Winthrop. I'll…I'll do that."

I walk slowly to the restroom, turn on the sink. I watch as the blood rinses down my arm and circles the drain. _A part of her. My precious Mallie…washing away._ My arm wet, I shake it off. I grip both sides of the sink, close my eyes, and listen to the frantic beating of my panicked heart.

"CHARON!" Barrows opened the door and bellowed. I run to him, hopeful. "She'll be okay – you got her here just in time." He holds the door open; allows me to enter. "I thought you were supposed to protect her. What happened?"

"Slaver with a sawed-off got the drop on her. I was too slow."

"Well, you better work on your fucking reflexes, then. She's over there." He points to a bed, surrounded by a screen. He sighs, impatiently. "Take all the time you need."

* * *

Mallie was unconscious, so pale, a blood pack dripping into her arm through an IV. I grasp her hand, squeeze it. "When will she wake up?"

"It'll be hours, at least. I pumped her full of Med-X. I suggest you find something to occupy your time." He pauses, then adds, "If you would like to stay here after hours, I could arrange that."

"Please."

I fetch our packs from the memorial. She won't be up for hours yet, and she'd be pissed if I just left it all here. The shooting and the dead super mutants must have scared off everyone; the only people I saw on the mall were the Brotherhood tin cans.

I pull up a chair next to her bed, and sit beside her. _They didn't even bother to fix her hair._

Well, they're doctors, not barbers, I suppose. I stand up, gently lift her head, and pull out bobby pins, one by one. I slide the hair tie out, and lay her hair to the side, on her shoulder. I sit and watch her chest rise and fall slowly and stroke her hair, whispering. "I'm here – everything will be okay."

Nurse Graves enters briskly, flinches, then respectfully turns and leaves. Ten minutes pass, then Barrows strides through the door. "Charon, we have to talk."

* * *

We stand in Winthrop's office, the door closed.

 _It was only a matter of time._

"Charon, that's more than just an employer."

I stay silent, cross my arms on my chest.

"You know how people feel about that." _Indeed I do. We spend the vast majority of our time around other people hiding it from them._

"I won't apologize."

"I didn't ask you to. Just keep it discreet." he advises.

I sigh, close my eyes, tip my head back. "Not even here." _Nowhere is safe._

"Look – a lot of us are jealous of you, really. But the less tongues wag, the better." _He's right._

"Nurse Graves – " I start.

"I told her to keep her mouth shut or she wouldn't be working with me anymore. Patient confidentiality."

I nod.

"Take care of her." He pauses. "She's special." He turns, opens the door, and walks away.

 _Yes. Yes, she is._

* * *

After about four hours, she begins to stir. "Doc! Doc!" I shout.

She grimaces in pain. "Stay still, Mallie, he'll get you something."

Doc Barrows gives her some Med-X, enough to dull the pain.

"You're here. I'm gonna be okay." She slurs.

I cup her cheek with my hand. "Shhh. Hush now. Rest."

She nods sleepily, kisses my thumb.

Barrows smiles faintly, and returns to his bed.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Blackness, but he's here. Everything's gonna be okay.

I'm so tired.

I fall asleep, wake up, and fall asleep again. It's all fuzzy.

I feel his hand on my arm.

He strokes my hair.

When I wake again, his head is resting on the bed, on his curled-up arm. I reach over; touch the nape of his neck. He grasps my hand, kisses it. "Love you." I say.

"Love you too. Feel better?"

"That depends. Is he dead?" _If Leroy's not fuckin' dead, I'll slice and dice him alive, I fuckin' swear._

"Deader than a doornail."

I smile. "I can always depend on you, babe."

"You're not mad?" he asks.

I widen my eyes and giggle. "We're all mad here."

"BARROWS! What'd you give her?! "

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Couldn't help the Alice in Wonderland reference. It was more fun to write than it should've been!


	28. Back in the Saddle

_Maleficent_

It took a few days for my leg to heal up enough for me to get around without too much pain. I was lucky – the artery was nicked, but the stimpak closed it up a little, kept it from getting worse, while the tourniquet saved what little blood I had left. Once I could walk, it felt like I was wearing out my welcome in the clinic, so we got a room up at Carol's.

People started talking, but I couldn't give a shit less. I almost died, who gives a fuck about gossip?

I cornered Winthrop, asked if he could rig up a holotape recorder. Said he'd try. I really hope so – saying what I have to say in person would be pretty awkward, and, well…painful.

Charon barely slept. I don't know if he ate. Probably not. Guilt for not being fast enough, maybe? Just worried about me? Who knows. _Let's just hope he doesn't ask for another punishment._ I think back to the debacle at Tenpenny, and shudder.

 _Ah, shit – the picture of the memorial! I totally forgot!_ Well, Caleb's waited for years probably; he can wait a few days more for me to get it. I guess you can't blame me for forgetting. I've had more important things on my mind. If it's not one thing, it's another.

"You have to sleep." _I don't need him dropping from exhaustion._

"What if you need something?"

"Then I'll get it myself." _I'm not an invalid, for fuck's sake._ I sigh. "Well, at least just lay down and rest." I turn and open the door.

"Where are you going?" he asks, with alarm, as he begins to rise.

"I'm going to see a man about a horse."

"What?!"

"It means 'none of your business.' Lay down."

* * *

I swing down to Winthrop's office and poke my head in. "Got it working yet?"

He jumps. "Aah! Don't sneak up on me like that! Yeah, I got it working. I've been testing it out all morning, recording and playback is fine. She's ready when you are."

"I'll stop by a little later."

"See ya."

* * *

 _I've got an idea._

I open the door, and he sits straight up, almost immediately.

"You didn't rest, did you?" I squint at him and cross my arms over my chest.

"I did. A little." _Riiight. I didn't tell him how long to rest. Loopholes._

"If you won't do it on your own, maybe I can give you some help." I suggest.

"Such as?"

"Take off your shirt and lay on the bed, face-down, head to the side."

He stares at me, incredulous.

"That's an order."

He complies, reluctantly.

 _Well, here goes._

I straddle his waist, and begin to knead his shoulders. He stiffens. "Stop that. Relax." _Sometimes, I just want to whack him upside the head._ "Does it hurt?" I ask.

"No." _Then I know what it is._

"I'm not ashamed of you. And you shouldn't be ashamed of yourself." I touch an exposed muscle, startled at how hot it is. _No wonder he gets cold so easily._ I start to work my way down his back, digging in with my thumbs, slow, lazy circles. I trace the edges, shallow ridges where the skin sloughed off long ago. The muscles are encased in a thin, translucent membrane – which apparently performs the same function as skin – well, other than heat regulation.

I push in the heel of my hand, find the tight spots, and work them loose. Slowly, he relaxes. _See? The more you let people touch you, the less weird it feels._

Then again, I really don't like people touching me either. It's good to have things in common.

I start again with his shoulders; they're by far the most tense. I hear, "Mmmm…" _Purring._ His eyes are closed. _He's enjoying it._ I smile. _It's about time; my thumbs are starting to cramp up._

I lean forward, kiss him on the temple. "Thank you," he slurs, sleepily.

"Now go to sleep."

"As you…wish."

* * *

I leave our room, buy a bottle of whiskey from Greta, snag a rocks glass and head down to Winthrop's office. He shows me how to use the recorder – it's pretty simple really – and how to play it back to make sure it's recording.

"Thank you. I'll let you know when I'm done."

I pour myself a glass, press the button marked 'Record.'

"Winthrop, this better fuckin' work" I mumble.

I clear my throat, and speak into the jury-rigged microphone. "Charon, it's me, Mallie. If you're listening to this, I went to Vault 87…"

* * *

It doesn't take me long to finish, but I stay in Winthrop's office, replaying it, re-recording it over and over until I'm drunk enough to be satisfied with it. I pocket it and leave the office. Cornering Patchwork, I hand him the whiskey bottle, and tell him that he's welcome to the rest. Good deeds for everyone today. _Merry Christmas, ya soak._ Should've held it up and made him sing 'How Dry I Am" like I did last time, but I'm not in the mood to fuck around _._

I find Winthrop talking with Tulip, and thank him for helping me, again offering to pay him.

"No, miss Maleficent. Not necessary. I'm just glad to be doing something different for once." He escorts me up to Carol's. He stops me before I can go in, with a light touch to the arm. "Be careful." He says. "He depends on you." Then he turns and walks down the stairs, leaving me clutching the door handle in stunned silence.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** A gold star to whoever catches the Twilight Zone reference!


	29. On the Road Again

_Charon_

Oof, she smells like a distillery. I shouldn't have left her alone.

I'll just have to let her sleep it off, I guess.

I'll get something to eat, then wander around until she wakes up.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

Oh, my fuckin' head! _I'll have to corner Greta and get a beer. Hair of the dog time._

I reach over to the other side of the bed, and it's empty. He's probably wandering around – I had to order him to eat when he wakes up, else he'll go hungry until I start eating. I don't even know if he ate at all while I was out. Probably not.

I get up and change. God only knows when those clothes were washed last. "Greta, can I get a beer?" I yell through the door. "Comin' right up!" she hollers back, and I hear a hiss-clink of a cap being pried off the top of a bottle, then a dull thump as it's set down on a table.

Once I tug my boots on, I head out, and sit at the table. "So – where'd Charon go?" I asked her. "I don't know – I ain't his babysitter. He doesn't like me all that much anyway." _Sheesh. Grumpy._ I take a few sips, and feel her eyes on me. "Is there something you'd like to say?" I ask.

She smirks, strides to me, and sits across the table from me, leaning across it, conspiratorially. "Is it true?" she whispers. "Is what true?" _I don't have time for this shit. Gossip is for boring people with boring lives._ "Are you and Charon really…" she raises her eyebrows. I take another sip of the beer, dig in my pocket, toss five caps on the table. As I turn to leave, I fling over my shoulder "A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

 _Then again, I'm not a lady._

* * *

I find him in the Ninth Circle, sitting on a barstool, staring at the corner that he stood in for years.

"How long have you been here?" I asked him, sitting down on an adjacent barstool, nursing my beer.

"I'm not really sure."

"Did you eat?" _He forgets sometimes – or doesn't eat on purpose, I can't decide which._

"Yes."

"Because you were hungry, or because I told you to?" I smile.

He shrugs. "Both."

We sit in silence for a few minutes, staring at the dingy corner.

"How much did you drink last night?" He asks.

"I'm not really sure."

"Of course not." He sulks.

 _Well…this is awkward._

"I won't go back to that, I promise." _Sometimes I think it was easier in the suite. Drinking, raging, – dying one day at a time._

I look at him. "I have something to live for now."

He pats my knee.

I drink the dregs out of the bottom of the bottle, then stand up. "I guess we should get that picture of the memorial, now."

"It's under the bed."

"What?" _I can't believe my ears._

"I got it while you were…hurt. Ferals don't attack me, you know. I just walked right in there and took it. Got some other stuff, too."

 _I can't help myself._ I slide in front of his barstool, and hug him tightly, fiercely. He nuzzles my neck, pulls me tighter. I sigh. "What would I do without you?"

"You'd probably be long dead." He chuckles.

"You better be glad I can't hit you right now."

* * *

We set out for the Temple, and take our time. A few extra days won't matter. Also, I want to milk the time I have left with him. The G.E.C.K. beckons…

Hannibal is ecstatic to hear the news, and wants to leave immediately, to my chagrin. I'd hoped to stay overnight, get some rest, but his excitement is infectious. He's waited for this a long time, and now that it's so close, he's reluctant to wait another minute.

"I guess we're turning right back around." I tell Charon, who is less subtle in his display of displeasure. "God forbid we get a damn nap." He grumbles.

"No rest for the wicked." I smile; he shakes his head slowly in return.


	30. Adieu, Adieu

**Author's Note:** **This one's going to be a short, very painful chapter. I apologize in advance.**

* * *

 _Maleficent_

We sit on the steps of the memorial, listening to the former slaves get settled in.

I steel myself. This will be painful, but I have to do it. Must do it. I'm not going to have more people die for Dad's pipe dream; certainly not the person that I love the most. If I have to piss him off to get him to go without a fight, I'll do it. The less questions, the less resistance, the better.

"I want you to go back to Underworld." I tell him.

"Oh? What do you need me to get for you?"

 _This is gonna be harder than I thought._

"No. I want you to stay there. Until I return." I reply, coldly.

The silence lengthens.

"I thought you promised never to send me away." He says.

I nod. "I know. I did."

He stands; pauses.

"Take your pack, all your things." _Please don't make this any harder than it has to be._

"I have no things."

"Don't play semantics with me." _I know – he's told me that by the contract, everything he has is by default mine. There's something horribly wrong with the world in which a man cannot own even the clothes on his back._

"But – "

 _Fuck it. Nuclear option time._ "Charon, who owns who?"

He frowns, uncomprehending. "What?"

I stand up to face him, jabbing at my left breast. "I said, WHO OWNS WHO?" I yell, the former slaves heads turning, curious. _Probably not the best audience for this conversation, now that I think about it._

"You don't own me, you just bought my contr– "

"SEMANTICS!" _They're openly staring at us now._ "Now get your shit together."

I listen to him stalk off, shoulder his pack, and ready his gear.

As he turns to leave, I dig the holotape out of my pocket. "Here. Listen to it when you get there. It explains everything." When he doesn't move to take it, I grab his wrist, gently turn it, and place it into his upturned palm. "Winthrop has a player. He knows you're coming."

I look up to meet his eyes, but they're glassy, far-away, his "order-following" eyes.

"I love you." I mumble. With a grunt, he turns, slowly descends the memorial steps.

I watch him walk all the way to Underworld, tears in my eyes. He doesn't look back.


	31. End Game

**Author's Note: it's action time! Hold on to your butts! ;)**

* * *

 _Maleficent_

As soon as I can't see him anymore, I seek out Hannibal, wish him well, and sell him the other Lincoln artifacts that Charon found – well, other than the repeater. Caleb is busy studying the picture of the memorial, so I leave him to his work.

 _I really hope they make it._

I head for Tenpenny, to drop off a few things, and resupply. Maybe that stupid robot will have some water for me.

I make it back to the suite intact – mostly because I sneak around to avoid the fights I know I might lose. I didn't realize how much more powerful a companion made me feel. I spend the night there; rest and shower. I stock up on food, water, and ammo. I patch my armor. I snag all the Stealth Boys I have – which amounts to nine – and head out into the wasteland.

I hope that's enough to get me to and through 87 in one piece.

* * *

 _Charon_

I can't believe she said that to me. That she _owns_ me.

 _It fuckin' stings._ I know it's the truth – the contract offers only a thin veneer of legitimacy. I have no free will, I can't own anything, I don't draw wages for my services. I am a slave. _Her slave._

I finger the holotape. There better be something good on here. I hope whatever she's doing, it's worth my trust.

The sad thing is, I still don't trust her, even with the implant – shit changes, relationships end – but ultimately, I don't have much of a say in the matter. Whether I trust her or not, she's not only my lover, she's my employer. I'll protect her and follow orders – that's what I was programmed to do, and I've learned to find some small satisfaction in performing my function well.

Winthrop waves me into his office as soon as I walk in the door. "She told me you'd come." He offers me a seat at his desk and indicates a jumbled mess of computer parts. "Put it in this slot here. This button right here is play."

I nod.

"I'll give you some time." He turns, walks out, and closes the door softly.

* * *

 _BEEP_

 _(Fumbling noises, mumbling) " Winthrop, this better fuckin' work."_

 _(A sigh) "Charon, it's me, Mallie. If you're listening to this, I went to Vault 87 to retrieve the G.E.C.K .and finish what my Dad started. (the telltale clunk of a heavy glass on a hard surface)_

"WHAT?"

 _"I know I told you that I would never send you away, and I'm sorry. This is something that I have to do on my own. I don't want you getting hurt or killed for me. For…this._ _I think that I owe you some answers. About me. About my life."_

"No shit!"

 _(a chair creaks, liquid sloshes from a bottle to a glass)_

 _"I was born outside the vault. My name was Lilith Ann Kirk." (a pause)_

My breath catches in my throat.

 _"Dad got in because their doctor died, and they needed his skill. And because he brought ME._

 _I may have grew up there, but I never felt like I belonged there, Charon. I was angry inside, cold, restless. When I was ten, Dad got me a BB gun for my birthday. I took out my anger on the radroaches that got into the vault. I said hurtful things to people. I played pranks. But I never told Dad or anyone else about the darkness inside of me. They would have drugged me, so I couldn't hurt anyone or myself." (a pause, the clunk of the glass on the desk)_

I lean closer to the player. I don't want to risk missing a word.

 _"You can take someone out of the wasteland, but you can't make 'em forget it. It's in my DNA. Dad should've known that. Maybe he did, but denial is tempting. I should know." (liquid sloshes in a bottle)_

 _"I had a…physical relationship with a boy in the vault. When the Overseer found out, he was not happy. It turns out the vault had a breeding program – and I was intended for another boy. Breeding stock. New blood for a genetic bottleneck." (a chuckle)_

 _Then, my G.O.A.T. results – that's the Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test, what they use to pick your job. I got Vault Loyalty Inspector – the computer also automatically generated a recommendation for…the next Overseer." (a pause, a gentle slurping noise)_

 _"As you might think, it didn't make the Overseer happy. He'd been grooming his daughter for that position since she was born. That someone not even born in the vault – and a troublemaker – could get that…" (the chair creaks)_

 _"When Dad left, I knew my days were numbered if I didn't go after him. I ran, and killed everyone who tried to stop me. I destroyed the vault later. Made it uninhabitable, after the Overseer's daughter told me I couldn't come back. It was out of pure spite. I forced 'em all out – probably to die, just because she pissed me off. (a few clicks)_

Her voice is starting to slur.

 _When I got out of the vault, I was terrified, petrified with fear. Then The Darkness took over. I gave in. I stole, lied, killed- anything to stay alive and get what I wanted. I blew up Megaton. I started slaving, making money. People were afraid of me. I'd never be scared of anything, ever again._

 _Then I met you, and that all changed."_

My heart hitched.

 _(her voice thickens) "You taught me mercy. You taught me how to love. I can never repay you." (a long pause)_

 _"I'll come back for you." (another pause)_

The pain in her voice is audible. It breaks my heart.

 _"I love you." (she sniffs)_

 _(a whisper)" I'm sorry."_

 _(fumbling noises)_

 _BEEP_

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I like Mayor McCready. Shrewd little shit. Reminds me of me when I was a kid.

I manage to make it inside the vault without having to resort to Murder Pass. A kid was able to fix the terminal for me so I could hack it. I slap a Stealth Boy on my wrist. _Glad I've been practicing with these things._

I lift my minigun. _Let's do this._

* * *

 _Charon_

Wonder what she's doing right now.

If she needs me.

Makes my trigger finger itch.

I want to kill something.

I want to go after her.

But I can't.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

"Let's keep this nice and simple. You're going to tell me the code for that Purifier, and you're going to tell me now."

 _What…where the fuck am I?_

"The code to the purifier. Now."

"I don't know it." I shake my head. _Wait, I know that voice._

"We know you do. You'll tell us. Everyone breaks."

 _Colonel Autumn. I thought that motherfucker was dead!_

"I'll fuckin' kill you." I snarl. _Carve you up like a fuckin' Thanksgiving turkey. Your mother won't recognize you when I'm done with you._

"We'll see about that."

Another voice. "Colonel... I have need of you."

 _Fuck, come on, girl. Clear your head._

* * *

"Ah, alone at last." I look around for the source of the voice, my gaze settling on an intercom on the wall near the door. "I do apologize for Colonel Autumn's attitude. He's been under a great deal of stress lately." _Yeah, no shit._ "I have no doubt that you know who I am. I'm sure you've heard my radio broadcasts. I'd like to have a word with you, face-to-face. I think there are a few things you and I should discuss." _Eden._

I'm really getting tired of other people's problems right now. But since I'm a captive audience, I suppose I have to at least humor him. "You'll find your possessions in the locker near the door. I'll unlock the way for you." _Now that's what I'm talkin' about._ "And I'll unlock your restraints as well. I'll be waiting for you in my office. Please don't tarry."

Yes, sir. Whatever you say, sir.

When I leave, I'm challenged by a guard, who contacts Eden on the intercom. "I'm surprised to hear from you, Lieutenant. I don't recall authorizing you to contact me directly." _Yeouch. I know that tone._ He quickly apologizes. "Apology noted, Lieutenant. Yes, I instructed our friend to come up to the control room. No questions, no interference. Am I understood? Allow our friend to pass. And report to your superior for reassignment, Lieutenant. At once." _Bitch slap from the big man! Haha!_

* * *

The president is a _computer?_ No shit!

This is too rich.

I roll the vial of FEV in my hand. _You fuckers killed my dad; you gotta be out of your fuckin' mind if you think I'm gonna help you._

"I am the best hope for our country, the best choice for a leader. True, I am not qualified in the conventional sense, but these are desperate times." He says.

 _Indeed._

"Can you help me get out of this base?"

A pause. "There, I think that should about do it. You may still encounter some resistance, but things should be smooth going for the most part."

"See you on the flip side."

* * *

After my escape, I stumbled across a squad of Brotherhood that escorted me back to the Citadel.

"We have to go now!" _Ugh, Sarah Lyons._

I hand Elder Lyons the FEV vial. I'm tired of other people's problems. I turn to walk out, intending to head back to Underworld to collect Charon.

"You have to come with us!"

 _FUCK NO. Get me out of here._

"Your father started this; you have to help finish it!" She offers me a set of power armor, which I take, reluctantly.

 _Goddamn it._ "Let's go."

* * *

We follow the robot through DC. It's surprisingly therapeutic to shoot Enclave soldiers in the face with their own plasma weapons. I collect a few to sell later – some moderately wealthy wastelander will eventually appreciate it.

I see Jefferson in the distance. _Time to end this._

* * *

We open the door to the rotunda, and we're confronted by none other than Colonel Autumn – with a few heavily-armored, armed to the teeth Enclave soldiers.

"When you were little, did you ever think that monsters lived under your bed?" I ask him.

He frowns, unsure. "What?"

"There are no monsters under your bed, Autumn – I'm the monster."

"I see."

"I'm going to enjoy killing you." I sneer.

"So this is the path you choose for yourself. Tell your father I said hello."

"THIS ONE'S MINE!" I scream. I fling myself at him, combat knife first.

* * *

"Holy shit."

Sarah stands over the mangled remains of Colonel Autumn, eyes wide, as alarms sound.

"I had a score to settle." Blood drips down my arm, the length of the blade, and onto the floor. _What a pity I couldn't drag it out longer. Make him suffer._

"Evidently." She shakes her head.

A voice on the intercom. "Someone has to go into the purifier and activate it." _I'll be damned if I'm gonna die for someone else's dream. Even my dad's._

I look at Sarah.

"So, I guess we have to draw straws." She says. _I'm a selfish bitch. I don't wanna die._

"The code is 2-1-6."

She steps into the purifier.

The last thing I remember is Jefferson's statue looming above me, then the floor rushing up to meet my face.


	32. The Waiting is the Hardest Part

_Charon_

"Fuck off, Greta." _I don't care if Mallie left caps with them to take care of me. I don't want to let them._

"I don't like you either, but you're drinking too much." She snipes.

Greta is one of the few down here that has the stones to talk to me.

"Who are you – my mother?" I take another gulp of vodka.

"Charon – do you want her to find you like this?"

 _No. No I don't._

I make my way back to my bed in the Ninth Circle. It seemed like the most natural place to go after she sent me here.

She's been gone for weeks. _What if she doesn't come back? What Hell would I find myself in, then?_

* * *

The days pass…one bleeds into another, into another, and then another.

I drink, I sleep, I smoke, I eat…a little. She'd want me to.

When I wake, there's a brief moment – a moment where the weeks melt away, where I can feel her lying next to me, so warm, I can smell her hair, her skin. She smells of sweat, of dust, and of something more subtle, something maddening, something unmistakably _female._

Then I wake fully, and reality descends, a dark cloud.

Sometimes I spend hours, just staring at the corner where I spent so many years. Sometimes, Winthrop joins me, and we drink in silence. Maybe Mallie told him to keep me company. Maybe he decided to do it on his own. Either way, it's a kindness. Don't find too much of that in the wasteland.

Sometimes I rage; yell at the walls. I need orders, I need guidance. I need someone – _her –_ to tell me what to do. How to feel. I need purpose.

I palm the holotape. I think of her voice, thick with emotion and whiskey. " _I love you."_ She said. _"I'm sorry."_

I close my eyes and clench my teeth, as my heart breaks all over again.

" _I'll come back for you."_

* * *

 _Maleficent_

I think I'm gonna puke.

"What…?" I ask, lifting my head from the pillow. "Where am I?"

"You're at the Citadel."

Elder Lyons addresses me. "Sarah entered the purifier. She's a hero. A martyr." He scowls at me, reproachfully. _Being a hero is all she ever wanted to be. She's earned it. I'm no one's hero. I don't deserve to be._

"How long have I been out?" My head is swimming.

"About two weeks. It was touch and go for a while." _Ah shit, Charon._

"I need to go."

"That you do." He answers coldly, turning away.

* * *

I approach Underworld with trepidation. _God only knows what I'm gonna find._ My mind raced after I sent him away. I didn't tell him to eat regularly, to sleep – my mind fills with possible loopholes. I hope he's okay.

"Welcome back, tourist." I wave and smile to Willow, then open the door to the lobby.

I stare at the big skull for a long time. _What will I say?_

Will he ever trust me again? That is, of course, assuming that he ever trusted me at all, which is doubtful. I take a deep breath and pull open the door.

Winthrop greets me with a nervous smile. _Underworld's very own welcome wagon._

He points up the stairs, to the Ninth Circle.

I ascend slowly, deliberately. _I still have no idea what to say._

I look down at the atrium. It's more subdued than usual – pretty much everyone here knows me, and has a good idea of our…situation. If they're this quiet, it must be pretty bad. _Either that, or they're as anxious as I am._

I stand at the door. Snowflake glances at me, and then quickly jerks away before I can meet his eyes. _That bad, huh?_

 _It's showtime._

I push open the door, and walk inside.

* * *

 _Well, at least the place has been cleaned up since Ahzrukhal's untimely demise._

He's sleeping on the bed, soundly. I lock the door, with a soft _clack._ I set my pack down, and stride to the other door, locking that one, too. _Let the gossips gossip. I want some privacy._

I take my hair down, picking out the bobby pins and laying them on the bar. I toss my head; fluff my hair. I take off my armor, being careful to make as little noise as possible.

I waffle between letting him sleep and waking him up. The decision was easy. _He'd want to know the second I got here._ I crouch beside the bed, and grasp his hand. He stirs, mumbles in his sleep.

I whisper, "I'm here."

His eyes flutter open, his gaze dull, uncomprehending.

I smile. "I came back for you."

His eyes clear, widen. He reaches out, grabbing me, pulling me to him.

We lay facing each other, foreheads together, legs entwined, silent.

 _This is not what I was expecting. But then…what was I expecting?_

He caresses my cheek, runs his hand through my hair. "You came back for me."

"I did."

I slide a hand up the back of his shirt, rub his leathery back, pull him closer.

"I missed you." I mumble.

I breathe deeply, trying valiantly to hold back tears, but ultimately failing. _I've been so selfish. So cruel._

He wipes a tear away with the pad of one rough finger. "Don't cry. I'm here. Everything will be okay." He whispers.

He closes his eyes, kisses my throat. I gasp, trembling.

His lips find mine, and I yield to them.

* * *

I lay, silent, compliant, as he undresses me, then himself.

I close my eyes as his coarse hands run the length of my body. Soft kisses flutter at my collarbone, gentle breath in my ear. _It's been so long. Too long._

A soft groan escapes my lips, betraying my need for him.

He rests his cheek against mine. I whisper, " _Please."_

He pushes himself up, and gently parts my legs. My body cries out for him, wants him, _needs him._

It's gentle, almost painful.

My head tilts back as he enters me, slowly, gently. Filling me. Completing me.

 _Please. Let this last forever._

* * *

 _Charon_

She's here.

She's so warm. So smooth.

Her legs tighten around me, drawing me closer, deeper into her.

She arches her back, pressing against me, thrusting her hips to meet mine.

"Ooooh…" She tightens around me. _So close…_

"Oh, please…" she begs.

"I love you, Mallie." I whisper, between gentle thrusts; wordless gasps.

She stiffens, so tight, screams my name.

I can't hold myself back.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yeah, it's the old trope - the passionate reunion.**

 **Only a few more chapters left! I'm taking my red pen to them, as we speak.**


	33. Get the Hell Outta Dodge

_Maleficent_

I awake, in his arms. We explore each other's bodies, first tentatively, then aggressively.

 _After so long, I can't deny myself._ I straddle him and take him inside of me, riding him gently, relishing his hands on my back, on my hips, guiding me, thrusting to meet me. I close my eyes, tilt my head back…

I savor the feeling, the fullness inside.

I lead him to climax, his eyes close tightly, his whole body shivering as he releases an exclamation of pure pleasure.

I don't know how long we lay there, in each other's arms.

We talk, in furtive whispers. I tell him that there's nothing for me here. Dad is dead, Project Purity is in the hands of the Brotherhood. It's not my fight, and anyway – I'm not winning.

He draws me closer, massages the hard lump under my left breast, and tells me that wherever I go, he will follow.

* * *

 _Charon_

I hold her. It's what she wants; what she needs.

It's what I need.

But we can't stay here forever.

In our passion, we were careless. We weren't quiet. By now, everyone knows – that is, if they didn't know about us already.

The longer we stay here, the angrier some will be.

The angrier they are, the more they'll act out.

If they try to hurt her – or insult me – she'll either do something she can't take back, or order me to do it. I'm a living weapon. I've grown to anticipate things like this.

We need to leave.

* * *

 **Author's Note: This chapter is short but sweet! The last two chapters should go up tomorrow. Stay tuned!**


	34. Consequences

_Charon_

News spreads quickly, even if the rumors start in Underworld. On a trip to Rivet City to offload some extra gear, we figured we'd stay the night in the hotel before moving on. We were turned away – something I was afraid would happen if our relationship were common knowledge. The string of expletives that exited Mallie's mouth at full volume resulted in us being escorted from the ship by security.

"It's not her fault." I said.

"What do you mean it's not her fault? You just stood there and took it!" she points at me, accusingly.

"I've accepted my condition, Mallie. This is just how it is." _You better get used to it, too. Remember when you said you didn't care what they called you?_

"Someone has to say something. I'll be damned if I'm gonna sit there and listen to her say shit like that about us; about you." She fumes.

"So you're defending my honor, now? My hero." I joke.

She sticks her tongue out at me, a defiant, childish gesture that makes me laugh.

* * *

Over the next few weeks, the pressure increased. In every settlement we entered there were whispers, mutterings, stares. I cringe at what they call her. _Whore._ _Slut._ _Trash._ Stone-faced, she acted as if she didn't hear, but it's impossible not to. She started leaving me behind to trade, which made both of us nervous, but it was necessary. She hated it as much as I did – but we had little choice.

I can't ever recall a human-ghoul pairing that lasted long. Maybe because they moved away from populated areas, splitting up to get supplies, keeping quiet, like we're doing. Maybe it's because they move west, looking for more tolerance – whether there's any to be had has yet to be seen. _I'll believe it when I see it._

Another possibility - human-ghoul couples are rich targets. Both pariahs in their communities, a settlement could turn on them in half a heartbeat. A ghoul going missing isn't exactly news. Life is cheap out in the wastes. Smoothskin women got the short end of it, though. They became untouchables, stained, tainted. They can't even make money as whores. _Damaged goods._

She nearly choked a man to death for calling her a "corpse fucker." If there's one thing that sets her off, it's that phrase. Like a switch, her eyes blaze, and I'm pulling her off the moron that was stupid enough to say it in the first place.

Love makes people do crazy things.

* * *

We eventually return to Canterbury Commons, the only place where it seems like we're welcome. Whether they're oblivious to our relationship, or they do know and couldn't care less, it doesn't matter all that much.

Mallie puts the word out to all the caravans: two mercs for hire, traveling west. Package deal. We're not splitting up again. It does more harm than good. Both of us unraveled when she left.

So, we're leaving it all behind. Regardless of where she is, the suite will always be hers – payment for services rendered. If we ever do come back, we'll have a place to stay. Unfortunately, it's just about as uncomfortable as Rivet City, except people there are too polite – or scared – to say anything out loud.

Maybe time will change things. The rumors will die down. Other subjects for gossip will come along, and people will forget us.

I don't think she ever wants to come back. Things change, though.

"There's nothing for me here." She says, and takes my hand. Squeezes it.

I agree.

* * *

 _Maleficent_

We spend most of our time scavenging and waiting.

Waiting for word; for a caravan going west to need a couple guards. Have caps? Have gun, will travel. Although, the caps don't matter, really. I got enough already.

When I let my thoughts wander, I start to ask myself if my dad would be proud of me. I take stock of my life so far – a former slaver, a killer, a liar, a thief. A drunk.

I've given purified water to beggars. I've said nice things because they were true – not because I wanted something from somebody. I think of Agatha's face when I presented her with the Soil Stradivarius. I think of buying Charon's contract – an act born of selfishness, but transformed into one of compassion, kindness, love.

I'm rich compared to average wastelander – but money often means little when looking for self-worth. I don't suppose you can find it seeking approval from your dead dad, either, now that I think about it.

The truth is, I don't know if he'd be proud of me. I talk to him in my head, ask him questions, relive conversations we had. I torture myself with "what ifs" – what if I said something different? What if I'd found him earlier? What if I'd just left him in Vault 112 – he'd still be alive, at least.

No. I may have been his daughter, but Project Purity was his baby. He may have sacrificed it for my safety in the short term, but it's what he really cared about. If he paid half as much attention to me as he should've, I would've been medicated from the time I could talk. And the Project is up and running – pretty smoothly – without me. _I love you dad, but it's time to move on._

* * *

I ask Charon if we should take different names – or me, at least. I could go by Lilith again, get a fresh start out west.

He disagrees. "Lilith was who you were in the Vault. You're not her anymore."

I will always be Mallie to him, though. A tiny conflict of interest on his part.

We talk about the trip ahead.

There's no word yet, but it's only a matter of time. We need to bring up practical things before we start out. "We can't hint of our relationship on the trail." _If we do, we might get stranded, abandoned._

"They'll find out eventually. Hiding this kind of thing never works." He advises.

"I know. I'm just hoping that we can either get where we want to go, or prove our worth, so they don't kick us to the curb for a social faux pas." _Ha! "social faux pas!" More like "the only taboo in the wasteland."_

I sigh. "That means, of course, that there will be a – "I pause, thinking for the right phrase. "– a dry spell." This is gonna be the hardest part – keeping our paws off one another. That's not even taking into account the meaningful looks, the inevitable awkward social interactions, and the little gestures that lovers do for one another. Somebody could clue in to what we really are with just a touch to his arm, or him touching my lower back.

Then there's the significant possibility that we could give in to temptation and be caught, in flagrante delicto.

The amount of effort makes my head spin. I remember when I thought I didn't care what other people thought of me; of us. I remember saying that I wouldn't hide it; that I wasn't ashamed of him, or us. Now I'm the one trying to think of ways to hide what we are.

He says, "We can just tell 'em about us from the outset." _Say what?!_ I look at him. "You've got to be kidding." _The risk is too great._

"Well, what matters is if you can do your job. The merchants usually don't care about the personal lives of mercs. Especially ghouls." He frowns. "Trust me."

He already told me about how it was in the beginning for him, traveling with caravans. His contract changed hands more than he could count. A monstrous, armored ghoul mercenary tended to scare away potential customers. No amount of clothing could hide his height. Nothing could disguise that he was a ghoul.

"We'll talk about this later."

* * *

 _Charon_

At night, long after everyone else has gone to bed, she burns off her frustrations with me. She's angry at the world, powerless for once, and there's no way that she can change it. She gives me permission to cover her mouth – she doesn't trust herself to be quiet.

Sometimes, she's soft and gentle, maybe to remind herself that there's pleasure, joy, and love in the world. Other times, she wants to be taken – to submit to another – and I oblige. Still other times she wants to take me, to fight me. I still can't figure out why she does it. She acts as if she wants to prove she's alive – defying death and hate with an act of life, of vitality.

The bites, slaps, pinches, scratches – she commands them, orders them. I couldn't say no, even if I wanted to. "Hurt me." She purrs, eyelids heavy. She takes a deep breath, bites her bottom lip; it drives me wild.

She mounts me; passion by the dim light of her Pip-Boy.

Maybe she's trying to fill a hole inside of her. Sometimes the emptiness of the wasteland looms, threatens to swallow us both. But we cling to one another, each providing the strength, the will, for the other to go on.

We are together. Nothing else matters.


	35. Into the Sunset

**Author's Note: Well, folks - here we are: the final chapter. It was a wonderful journey - I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

 _Maleficent_

At last. Word comes in with Crow – an expedition west that can use a couple hired guns.

We ready our packs, patch our armor, clean and repair our weapons.

We had to sell a lot, even gave some away – guards have a weight limit on most caravans. Uncle Roe again refused to be paid for the room, so I insisted on at least giving gifts. After all – it's not like we could take it with us, anyway.

I told Charon to haggle with the merchant on his pay – and to insist on more than me.

"Why?"

"Because you're worth more. You have combat experience. Extensive training." I smile. "Sell your skills."

"But…my pay would belong to you."

"It's best not to mention that. Just act like it's yours."

"How?" _You're shitting me – you never had money of your own?_

"Whaddaya mean, HOW? Just…go out to eat, buy a beer – get a whore."

His head whips around, mouth wide.

I double over laughing. "I'm kidding! Close your mouth, you're gonna catch a fly."

We hoof it to Wilhelm's Wharf to meet the caravan. After giving us both a once-over, we're pronounced not only adequate, but ideal. There was a moment of tension as Charon haggled over his salary – frankly, I wasn't too sure that he could pull it off without my help – but a satisfactory agreement was eventually reached.

A merc approaches, curious of us, the odd couple. "Hey, howya doin'? I'm Rick. So, uh - how'd you guys meet up?"

I glance at Charon, and with a smirk I say, "In a bar."

* * *

 _Charon_

We head due west at a leisurely pace.

Yao guai, radscorps, and the odd raider keep us busy.

When the caravan stops at Girdershade, I can feel my girl getting antsy. "A cap for your thoughts?" I ask her.

She takes a drag on her cigarette, looks up to the sky at the stars.

"This is as far west as I've been. From here on out, it's new territory."

"Isn't this what you wanted?" I ask, confused.

"Yeah. But I think I can be allowed to feel anxious every now and then."

I nod.

She points at the other guards, all male, sitting around the campfire. "Go join your buddies. I need to think." I was surprised to find the other guards curious about me instead of disgusted. They asked me a lot of questions, mostly about the practical side of ghoulification. Not all of them I was comfortable answering – conversations with those guys swiftly wound up in the gutter. I quickly became "one of the guys." It was a new feeling, a bit awkward, but I was getting used to it.

Mallie – now "Mal," stayed on the periphery. She was the only female guard, and not tactful; it didn't take her long to rub some of the guys the wrong way. Especially after she shut them down when they showed…interest. _She's taken, fellas._

I tried my best to smooth it over. Regardless of my job with the caravan, my first concern was her safety. The last thing we needed was one of our co-workers to have a close encounter of the third kind with Mallie's combat knife.

I left her, reluctantly. I found a place by the fire, where I could watch her while I drank a beer with the guys; smoked and joked. This was the first time that I'd felt normal in well, forever.

Well, as normal as I could ever hope to get.

When I look up again, she's watching me, a faint smile on her lips.

* * *

We both wake up early, before the sunrise.

We climb a hill, sit, and enjoy a smoke, waiting for the day to begin. The other guards should be waking up soon, getting ready to leave.

I hug her with one arm, kiss the side of her head.

"Stop that, someone might see." She admonishes.

"I couldn't help it. You looked like you needed a hug."

She smiles. "I did."

We'd decided to tell them about us eventually – but it's too early. _They'll probably figure it out on their own, anyway._

"What I wouldn't give to eat you out right now." I say, off-hand.

"Hungry already, are we?" she smirks.

"That's an understatement."

"Control yourself, big guy." She takes a drag on her cigarette.

"With you around? It's hard." I say.

"You're tellin' _me_." She nudges me with her elbow.

We both laugh. A couple minutes pass.

"Ya know…I don't recall ever telling you that you're not allowed to jerk off." She says.

I frown, thoughtfully. "I never really had to worry about that until now."

"Well, it's a great way to work off some tension." I look at her, eyebrow raised. _This is getting awkward quick._

"Hey, 'self-love' is not a crime." She says, putting her hands up, defensively.

She stands up, brushes off her pants.

She leans down to my ear. "Just think about me doing it while you're doing it. Shouldn't take no time at all."

I groan with frustration, and she saunters off, laughing.

* * *

About an hour from Girdershade, and her wrist computer beeps shrilly. She looks at it and frowns.

I hurry over to her and she shows me the screen.

'End D.C. Map. Load Adjacent Area Map?'

She breathes deeply, starts to turn around.

I grab her by the shoulder. "No. Don't look back."

She nods, clicks 'Yes,' and we stride, side by side, pulling up the rear of the caravan.

Maybe someday she'll find what she's looking for. Until then, we'll keep searching.

Searching for a place that will put the Darkness within her to rest.

Searching...for a place where she can take her hair down and not have to put it back up again.

* * *

 _"My guide and I went into that hidden tunnel;_

 _And following its path, we took no care_

 _To rest, but climbed: he first, then I - so far,_

 _Through a round aperture I saw appear_

 _Some of the beautiful things that Heaven bears,_

 _Where we came forth, and once more saw the stars."_

~Dante's Inferno, ending stanza, Pinsky translation


End file.
